A Tale of Rivals
by elk99
Summary: What if the Golden Trio had come across a friend from another house? Introducing Edmund Fawley and the Fawley Family of Great Britain. This story will explore how the Fawley's actions affect Harry and J.K. Rowling's amazing world.
1. Chapter 1

**A Tale of Rivals**

A/N: So this is my first attempt at this. To avoid any confusion, I am trying to stick as close to canon as possible, incorporating details from the books, as well as Pottermore and the HP Lexicon. The character is of my own creation, but his family name is listed among the Sacred 28 on Pottermore. Well here goes nothing. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 **October 31st, 1980**

The wind bit harshly in the darkness, and the ordinary passerby would not have seen a hooded man appear on riverbank. He looked around quickly before heading towards the large manor that stood near the river. He pulled out a wand from his cloak as he approached the tall gate that blocked further approach, yet instead of stopping, he was able to walk through, as if the gates were nothing more than smoke. The walk to the manor was flat and grassy, and the man wasted in swinging open the front door.

A house elf was waiting for him. Paying the elf no mind, the man shed his black cloak, revealing a dark yellow tunic. "Tea, Worrow," he muttered as he threw his cloak to the coat rack and walked into the parlor. "I'll be in the parlor."

The two occupants of the parlor looked up in surprise as the man entered the room. An older man in a beige robe was reading near the fireplace, and a younger woman sat cradling a baby in her arms. The newcomer walked to the woman and kissed her without preamble before hugging the older man. The Dark Lord has fallen," he exclaimed triumphantly. "It is over."

The woman cried tears of joy as she pulled the baby closer and went to stand by her husband. The older man put down his book, a bright smile adorning a face that had become unfamiliar with such happiness. "What happened, Ned?" he asked the man.

"Amelia, told me at the Ministry only half an hour ago," Ned picked up his sleeping son, freeing his wife's hands. "The Dark Lord has been defeated when his own spell rebounded upon him. The war has ended, father."

The woman looked up sharply. "And what of Lily?"

It was easy for the woman and her father in law to see the tension reappear on Ned Fawley's face. "They're dead," he shook his head sadly. "They were betrayed. The Dark Lord found their house in Godric's Hollow." Madam Fawley and Ned's father shook their heads sadly at the news. The Potters had been remarkable assets in the fight against Voldemort.

"The boy?" Madam Fawley asked quietly.

"That's what is truly bewildering," Ned said. "He's alive. The Dark Lord tried to kill him and for some reason, the spell backfired and the boy was spared. Rumor has it Dumbledore took the child in his custody."

Madam Fawley looked at the sleeping bundle in her arms. "He's Eddie's age," she whispered. "They'll be school mates... to go through that…"

Ned's father would have none of the trepidation and sorrow so soon after victory. "Enough of that, Elodie," he addressed the woman he had welcomed into his home as a daughter. Pouring three glasses of firewhiskey, he gave one to the two adults. "Tonight, we celebrate. There will be time enough tomorrow to mourn our fallen."

The older man walked to the window that looked towards the mountains. The sky was becoming riddled with shooting stars as news traveled of the defeat of the Dark Lord. Raising his glass, he toasted the fortune of the wizarding world and their savior. "Here's to you, Master Potter," he said quietly. "Here's to you."

* * *

 **July 1991**

"Young Masters Fawley!" exclaimed the old House Elf as she ran onto the field behind Promenade-On-Finn. "Young Masters!" she called again in a panic, trying to make herself heard to the two laughing boys on broomsticks as they played a game of Quidditch.

The two boys spared the elf a discreet glance as they zoomed around each other. "Think we should put her out of her panic and let her know we can hear?" the older boy asked the younger one idly.

"Probably," the younger boy said a bit dejectedly. I want to be there when my Hogwarts letter comes and Worrow won't tell me if I'm up here."

The two boys angled their brooms towards the house elf, preparing to make their descent. Edmund Fawley, youngest of the Fawley sons was waiting for his Hogwarts letter with anticipation. His sister and brother were both enrolled in Hogwarts, Sullivan a fourth year and Merry a seventh year, as well as Head Girl, an accomplishment Madam Fawley could not stop talking about when her book club stopped by the manor.

Year after year watching his two older siblings go to Hogwarts and be sorted into the noble House of Hufflepuff had finally paid off. This year, he would finally go to Hogwarts and join the House that every single member of his family had been in since the founding of the school. He had no worries about not being accepted by his housemates. After all, he was a Fawley. His thick brown hair may have been combed over instead of the long and wavy look his brother sought, but it had always been easy to tell that they were brothers.

As the two descended and hopped off their brooms in front of Worrow, the elf gave them a quick glare. "Young Masters, Madam Fawley requested your presence for breakfast an hour ago," she scolded as she shooed them into the house.

"Relax, Worrow," Sullivan called cheerfully as he headed inside. Mum and Dad know I need to train for the upcoming season. Professor Sprout wants the cup in her office this year."

Edmund followed his brother into the house. While their physical resemblance was evident, the similarities ended there. Sullivan was loud and boisterous, whereas he tended to be much quieter and calm. His mother often said that Sullivan had been so loud as a baby that when she gave birth to Edmund, her body had spurted out the exact opposite for the sake of her own sanity.

Rushing into the kitchen, the boys were just in time to see a large Barn Owl barrel through the open window and drop three letters onto the table where the Fawley family ate their morning and noonday meals. The emerald ink bearing his name lit up Edmund's face. "My Hogwarts letter!" he exclaimed.

* * *

 **September 1, 1991**

The morning of September first may have been calm and orderly as mandated by their father, but that did not quench the brimming excitement that the family had that signaled the start of term. Edmund sat in the hall with his trunk and owl cage. His mother had taken him to Diagon Alley on his birthday, and allowed him his choice of owl as a present before they went to get the rest of his school supplies. He had named him Ptolemy, unashamedly after his first wizard card he had ever received.

After several moments, Sullivan and Merry walked in with their own trunks and owls. Meredith Fawley had always been the subject of attention at school for her stunning looks, and her status as a prefect since her fifth year had made her the family darling. Even so, she never lorded herself over her youngest brother, for which Edmund was grateful. "Ready, Edmund?" she asked idly as she grabbed some floo powder next to the fireplace. "Said goodbye to mum?"

"Of course, Edmund responded a bit queasily at the site of the floo powder in his sister's hand. He hated the stuff. Much preferring when his father side-along apparated with him.

"Good," Merry said shortly, ready to be on her way. Remember, we are flooing to the Bones House in London, and going to Kings Cross from there. Get in," she beckoned towards the hearth of green flame. "You're going first."

With a deep breath and a firm grip on his belongings, Edmund stepped into the flames.

Platform 9 ¾ was crowded as ever. Edmund was walking with Susan Bones, who would also be starting Hogwarts that year. The Fawleys had known the Bones family for several years and he and Susan had been friends since childhood. Up ahead Merry had already boarded the train, and Sullivan was talking to Cedric Diggory and his father. While Susan said goodbye to her aunt, Edmund allowed Madam Bones to give him a warm hug before they boarded the train. Amelia Bones may have been a hard woman by reputation, but as a family friend she had always taken care of Edmund when in her company.

Edmund only half listened to Susan as she chatted amicably about her family's visit to China, her aunt's recent appointment as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and how excited she was to start at Hogwarts. Edmund spent most of his time looking around at the people on the platform. A family of redheads were clustered together, a little girl crying next to her mother as her brothers boarded the train. He was distracted by Susan pulling him into a compartment near the back, which already housed two boys sitting across from each other. "Seats available?" Susan asked shyly.

A tall dark-skinned boy smiled at them. "Of course," he gestured to the empty space in the compartment. "I'm Dean. Dean Thomas."

"Terry Boot," his companion held up a hand.

Relieved to find an uncrowded compartment, Edmund took his trunk and thrusted it upon the overhead. Being raised among siblings who could not stop talking, he was accustomed to listening to the conversation as Susan introduced them to the two boys. He learned that Dean was muggle born, that he lived in London and was a fan of something called 'footie.' Terry was the oldest of his siblings to attend Hogwarts and had no idea what House he would be sorted into, as his father and mother came from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively. When asked, Edmund and Susan discussed how both of their families had been proud members of Hufflepuff for as long as anyone could remember, and that was probably where they were headed.

Their conversation was interrupted as a sorrowful round-faced boy came into their compartment. "Excuse me," he muttered quietly. "But have any of you seen a toad? I've already lost mine.."

"Sorry mate," Terry shook his head. "But if I see anything I'll be sure to find you."

Thanking them, the boy left the compartment, a bushy haired girl in tow. Susan, Terry, and Dean started talking again about everything and anything under the sun, leaving Edmund lost in his thoughts. He was destined to be in Hufflepuff, which was lucky, because he had no idea where he would fit in without practically being house royalty. His mother was the only one he knew to be a hatstall, where the sorting hat took longer than five minutes to decide what house a student would be sent to, and she was not a Fawley by blood. Both Merry and Sullivan had been sorted into Hufflepuff as soon as the hat touched their head, at least according to Pomona Sprout, the head of house. He had every confidence that he would be too.

As the train pulled in at Hogsmeade Station, the four companions departed the compartment together, clad in their plain black Hogwarts robes. As they were leaving they heard a booming voice calling for the first years to stay with him while the other students filed up the drive and out of sight. "That must be Hagrid!" Susan whispered excitedly, loud enough for the three boys to hear.

"He's so big," Dean breathed.

Fawley merely looked on. He had heard of Hagrid, the beloved gamekeeper of the school. The half-giant was talking to a small boy with black hair. Something seemed to be off with the boy, but he could not place his finger on it. Pushing his thoughts away, he followed Hagrid and the other first years to the bank of a lake, where a fleet of rowboats were waiting for them. Separated from Susan, Dean, and Terry, Fawley stepped into a boat at random. He saw the pale blonde hair of the boy sitting in front and shuddered. He knew from listening to his father that the Malfoys were bad news. He had been warned to watch his back when his grandfather found out that Lucius Malfoy's son would be attending school with him.

As Hogwarts came into view he could not help but gasp as the towering spires and walls of the castle loomed over him. A small smile crept onto his face as he finally realized that he was here. He had waited since Merry went off and now finally, it was his turn. Things were going to be alright.

Hagrid led them out of a small harbor underneath the rocky cliff the school sat upon, and made their way to the castle where they were met by a tall and formidable woman Fawley could only guess to be Professor McGonagall. She briefly lectured the first years on the Houses, and the expectations demanded from them. As she left them in a side room from the entrance hall, he decided she was not one he would want to cross.

Waiting in the side chamber was excruciatingly boring, but he masked his impatience and stood in the corner of the room. He could make out Susan chatting to another girl; the bushy haired one who had been following the toad boy, but he himself was not in a talkative mood. He began to look around at the people he would be attending classes with, possibly sharing a common room with. He saw Draco Malfoy standing with two thugs, he watched a tall red haired boy, from the red head family he saw on the platform, whisper to the slim black haired boy who he had seen talking to Hagrid. There was something about him, but he still couldn't place it. He saw the ghosts walk into the room, and was pleased to finally see the Fat Friar, who his grandfather claimed was a distant relative, a reason why the family had stayed religious. He took all this in, analyzing everything. He was not boisterous like his brother or outgoing like his sister, but both of them had used their skills to achieve at school. Edmund knew he needed to use his own skills to succeed by himself.

As they were led into the Great Hall, he searched for his siblings faces. Sure enough, Merry and Sullivan Fawley both could be seen watching him excitedly at the Hufflepuff table. Edmund saw his brother whisper something to Cedric next to him, who also gave him an encouraging smile.

Before long, he found himself clustered at the foot of the platform where Professor McGonagall had placed the sorting hat on a stool. Waiting in anticipation, some of the first years jumped back a little as the hat burst into song.

 _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
 _But don't judge on what you see,_  
 _I'll eat myself if you can find_  
 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_  
 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
 _So try me on and I will tell you_  
 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,_  
 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,_  
 _Where those of wit and learning,_  
 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,_  
 _Those cunning folks use any means_  
 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
 _And don't get in a flap!_  
 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Edmund smiled briefly at the song. It was clever, but he doubted many would appreciate the wit the sorting hat employed over sheer entertainment. He watched as Hannah Abbot was sorted into Hufflepuff, followed closely by Susan. He smiled briefly at Susan as she made her way to the Hufflepuff table as Terry was sent to Ravenclaw. While Lavender Brown was sorted into Gryffindor, Millicent Bulstrode became the first sorted into Slytherin. The sorting had made Edmund take a hard think about the House of Serpents. It was not something that they had discussed on the train. In fact, Terry and Susan had avoided talking about them at all. He briefly felt sorry for Millicent as she took her seat among her new house. She would be resigned to a fierce rivalry not only with Gryffindor, but the other two houses.

Turning his attention back to the sorting, Tracy Davis, was sorted into Slytherin. Before he knew it, Professor McGonagall was calling from her scroll, "Edmund Fawley."

All the nervousness he had pushed out of his system all day suddenly returned to Edmund. He could feel the Hufflepuff table practically brimming with excitement at another Fawley joining their ranks. Forcing himself to walk up the steps to the platform, he turned around and sat on the stool. The last thing he saw before the sorting hat was placed over his eyes was a thumbs-up from Sullivan.

"Tricky…" Fawley froze as the Sorting Hat pondered him. "Another Fawley…. But so much more then another Fawley aren't we boy?"

The hat went silent as the minutes ticked by. Edmund became incredibly nervous. His mother had been a hatstall, but to be one was incredibly rare. What was worse is he had no idea what other house the hat was debating for him.

"Yes, I suppose they could use you," the hat started up again. "Let's go with…. SLYTHERIN."

* * *

A/N: There ends the first chapter. As I mentioned above, this story aims to experiment with how Edmund Fawley, reacts to the wizarding world in conjunction with Harry and his friends. I don't have any idea of how long this will be yet but suffice to say I am trying to strike a good balance between Fawley's character development and how his actions will affect (or not affect) Harry's.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **A/N: Sorry for how much later this update was. No I have not abondoned this story, but I moved to a different country and the process of getting my life together took a tad longer than I expected. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Chapter 3 will follow shortly after.**

* * *

The Hufflepuff table was deathly silent. Fawley purposefully avoided looking in the direction he knew his sister and brother would be looking at him in shock. The raucous applause from the Slytherins and the polite applause from the Ravenclaws was drowned out by the silence radiating from the house his family had been proud members of since the Fat Friar.

He sat down next to another girl who had just been sorted. Davis, he thought her name was. Tracey Davis. Studiously avoiding the glances from the Hufflepuff table, where he knew his brother and sister were sending him worried stares, he watched as the bushy haired girl, Granger, was sorted into Gryffindor. She looked so happy to join that table, he thought to himself enviously. _Why can't that be me._ He was temporarily distracted as a very pretty blonde girl was sorted into Slytherin, and sat down next to him. He knew enough about the ancient pureblood families to know that this was a Greengrass. His father worked with Gregor Greengrass and he had met Daphne once or twice when his father brought him into work.

Deciding that he needed to make the best of his situation, Fawley resigned himself to making friends in his house. _If not friends, allies._ Daphne Greengrass would be a good place to start. "Excuse me," he muttered quietly to the girl. "But are you Daphne Greengrass?"

Flashing a brief look of annoyance as she turned to look at him, Daphne Greengrass' face betrayed nothing as she examined him. "You're a Fawley," she said, ignoring his question. "What did you do to get the Hat to place you in the noble house of Slytherin?"

Annoyed that this girl thought him unworthy of his house, he momentarily forgot his disappointment of not being sorted to Hufflepuff. "Obviously it thought it needed some personality," he said coolly.

"Your family doesn't put stock in blood purity, Fawley," she countered. "One could question your motives for this House."

Momentarily caught off guard by Daphne's knowledge of his family's leanings, he chose his next words carefully. Slytherin was a house strife with politics and if he was to win the respect of his peers, he needed to talk a good game. "Blood is a requirement, not an ideal, Greengrass. Let us not forget the Fawley blood is purer then most of the pureblood families today, including your own."

The blonde girl's blushed slightly before turning away to watch the rest of the sorting. Fawley cursed his words. He hated to pull rank on anyone, but he had no other response for his housemate's barbs. _I need to be better at this verbal sparring if I am to secure a place here_.

His thoughts were interrupted as Professor McGonagall called the next name, which sent a chorus of whispers through the Great Hall as the slight black-haired boy now identified as Harry Potter walked up to the Sorting Hat. The boy seemed nervous as the Deputy Headmistress placed the hat on his head. Madam Fawley had often hinted that Potter had been sent to live with the muggles. It was no wonder he was nervous. Fawley felt a twinge of sympathy for him as the hat seemed to take its time deliberating. Finally, he was sent to the Gryffindor table where he received a raucous applause from the pride of lions. _Applause I could have gotten from Hufflepuff_.

Shaking away the looming despair, Fawley focused on the rest of the sorting, which had just reached its conclusion with Zabini, Blaise being the last Slytherin to be sorted. Studying his housemates carefully, he knew he would have to be on guard. There was Draco Malfoy, who had already gathered two thugs, Greg Goyle and Vince Crabbe to form his own little posse. Blaise Zabini seemed to be a bit of a loner, although he was talking to a second year sitting next to him, Nott, he thought his name was. Pansy Parkinson was fawning over Draco, adding to arrogant boy's posse. Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis were discussing the latest Quidditch Match between Puddlemere and Caerphilly next to him, while Daphne Greengrass and Helen Runcorn were talking about the start of classes tomorrow. Resigning himself to a lonely seven years, Fawley let his attention drift to a conversation between two fifth years who were sitting next to Bulstrode and Crabbe. They both had badges with an engraved "P" surrounded by a serpent- prefects.

"Look Gemma," the boy was saying. 'You have to deal with them because I cannot stand next to Percy Weasley for longer than a few seconds."

The fifth year girl, sitting diagonally across from Fawley caught his eye and gave him a sly smile before turning to her housemate to argue whatever prefect matters they were discussing. Fawley barely noticed dinner changing to dessert as he couldn't help but stare at the girl. She was the only one who had smiled at him and seemed to be the only one who noticed him. It's a shame she was a few places down…

He tried to listen as the Headmaster made his remarks to the students, but Fawley was only half listening as warnings of the Forbidden Forest and the Third Floor Corridor settled in his conscious. Instead, he was watching Harry Potter, who looked happy at the Gryffindor table with Dean Thomas and the toad-boy, Longbottom. Glancing past them at the Hufflepuff table, his brother had his head bent talking to Cedric Diggory, while Susan was talking to several of her housemates excitedly. He made eye contact with his sister who was idly twirling her wand around her cup. She gave him a small smile, releasing some of the pressure he felt in his chest. He would have to talk to his sister tomorrow.

Soon enough, the two Slytherin fifth year prefects were leading the first years out of the Great Hall in orderly lines. They entered the dungeons and were led deeper and deeper into the roughhewn tunnels where the rocks began to give off a faint greenish tinge. They were below the lake.

Stopping at a bare stone wall, the fifth-year boy turned to look at the first years. "This is the entrance to the Slytherin House Common Room. The password for the next few weeks is Nightshade. Check the notice board inside frequently for changes to the password." Turning to the wall, the prefect stated the password again, and walked into the passage that led into the common room. The other first years followed him into a low vaulted chamber. There was an ornate fire place at one end of the room, surrounded by green armchairs and dark wooden tables. Several of the older Slytherins had already claimed the armchairs by the fire and were catching up with their friends, as well as homework that had been left undone over the summer.

The girl prefect led them to the center of the room before turning to address the first years. "Welcome to the House of Salazar Slytherin. My name is Gemma Farley, that over there is Henry Keating." Gemma paused long enough to look over the ten first years before lingering on Fawley. "As a member of this house, you are automatically a pariah in the eyes of the Hogwart's student body. There are many who would like to see shame, trouble, and even harm to befall the noble house of Salazar Slytherin. Your duty as Slytherins, is to disappoint them."

Gesturing to the archway at the opposite end of the common room, Henry Keating stepped next to Gemma. "Dormitories will be down that hallway. Take a right for the boys and take a left for the girls. Don't get caught in the wrong one."

"The password is changed every fortnight," Gemma reminded them. "Check the notice board each weekend for password changes as well as other important information."

"Well said, Miss Farley," a cold voice interrupted the two prefects from continuing. A Professor in black billowing robes came to stand between Henry and Gemma. His hooked nose looking down on Edmund and his year mates imperiously. Fawley noticed many of the older students had straightened up as the man's presence was felt. "I am Professor Snape. Potions master as well as Head of Slytherin House. As members of this house, I expect a certain degree of propriety and diligence from you all. Those who fail classes, assignments, and courses will serve detention with me. Those who excel, who work hard, will be rewarded. Be at breakfast each day at quarter past eight. Walk together to your classes, collected and unified. I will not have a bunch of first years tarnishing the respect this house commands." With a last sweep of the room, the Professor nodded to Gemma and Henry before departing the Common Room.

"Right," Henry coughed. "That was Professor Snape. He is good to us Slytherins, but he expects our best foot be put forward at all times. Do not disappoint him," he finished with a menacing glint in his eye. Fawley got the sense that the prefect had faced Snape's wrath before.

As they were ushered towards the corridor by Henry, Edmund felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from joining his year mates. Turning around to see Gemma Farley, he gulped. He couldn't have been in trouble this early could he?

The tall girl gave him a brief smile before tucking a lock of her black hair behind her ear. "Relax, Fawley," she muttered, leading him away from the dormitory entrance. "Listen, every once and a while we get someone like you. Someone who would traditionally be from another House."

Edmund felt a fire of irritation erupt within him. Whether it was from the stress of the day or his own exhaustion, he had no idea what caused him to snap. "I don't need anyone's sympathy," he snarled at the prefect. "I am _proud_ to be in Slytherin and wouldn't trade it for anything. Especially not Hufflepuff."

With that, he left the bemused prefect and several other older students in the common room as he made his way to join his fellow first year boys.

* * *

Following the right passageway into the boys dormitories, Edmund could see the faint greenish hue given off by the ceiling, probably due to their depth beneath the lake. While the thought of being stuck under a body of water was frightening, he couldn't help but be impressed with the lodgings of Salazar Slytherin House. Towards the end of the corridor, he came to a doorway with a silver plaque that read 'First Years.' With a deep breath, he opened the door to face his dormmates.

The Slytherin dormitory may not have been his bedroom at Promenade-On-Finn, but it was certainly not anything to complain about. The five four poster beds were arranged in a semicircle on one side of the circular room, with a large circular bookcase in the center. The dim torchlights hung over the desks next to each bed with an emerald tapestry denoting each boy's belongings. Edmund found his own bed between Blaise Zabini and Vincent Crabbe. Crabbe gave him a small nod before following Malfoy into the bathroom door on the other side of the beds, toiletries in hand. Gregory Goyle, whose bed was at the far end of the room on the other side of Malfoy's already had the thick green curtains drawn around him. Blaise Zabini was hanging up a poster of the Weird Sisters above his desk. Turning to his own trunk, Fawley began to take out his books and clothes and other supplies, when he heard a light screech from a gaping hole in the ceiling that seemed to lead into nothingness. As he and Blaise looked at the gap, Ptolemy gracefully circled into the room and perched on Edmund's extended arm. "Hey boy," he chuckled as he stroked the feathers. "I see you found an owl hole."

"Well, well, well, what do we have here," the snide voice of Draco Malfoy caused both Fawley and Ptolemy to look up. "An Eagle owl, eh," the blonde-haired boy smiled. "Your family has good taste."

Edmund remained silent. Draco Malfoy was not someone to make friends, but alliances. He would wait for the Malfoy scion to get to the point. Sensing his dormmate was waiting for him to continue, the blonde-haired boy kept talking. "I don't believe we have been formally introduced. I am Draco Malfoy," he held his hand out. "This is Crabbe, and that's Goyle whose sleeping."

"Edmund John Fawley," he replied, slowly taking the boys hand. "A pleasure."

"Fawley's a Hufflepuff name."

"Well now it's a Slytherin name as well."

With a sneer, Malfoy turned to his bed. "We'll see about that.

Fawley continued to stroke Ptolemy for a few minutes, before sending him off and entering the washroom. His hygiene taken care of, he entered the dormitory again to see Malfoy holding court with the other three boys.

"And so, I told him he could do better than a blood traitor, but he told me he didn't need my help," Malfoy sneered again. "Our savior is nothing but a wanker befriending those Weasleys."

Grimacing, Edmund made his way over to his four-poster bed. _I'm not sure I can get accepted into that lot with that rhetoric._

Malfoy, who must have caught his grimace, was not about to let the apprehensive Edmund get away so quickly. "Got something to say, Fawley," he drawled.

Continuing to prepare for bed, he tried to ignore his blonde roommate. As he was about to climb into the bed, a hand clamped over his shoulder. Turning, he saw Malfoy glaring from behind Vincent as the bigger boy prevented him from turning back. "Let's get something straight, Fawley."

He was really beginning to hate that drawl.

"My father is Lucius Malfoy, Governor of Hogwarts and my families blood can be traced ten generations. Show me the proper respect!"

Edmund subtly glanced around. Vincent continued to hold his shoulder, and Blaise and Greg Goyle were looking on. _They're afraid of Malfoy._ Straightening himself up, he looked at Malfoy in the eye before replying. "Twelve."

Watching in amusement as Malfoy's face began to burn, Edmund marveled in how much blood purity went with this lot. Feeling satisfied that he could pull rank if needed, Malfoy's next action surprised him. As the blonde's fist connected with his face at the same time Vincent released him, Edmund tumbled to the ground. Looking up, he only saw stars and the slicked back blonde hair of the boy who had just punched him. Getting up angrily, he was prevented from his revenge by the dormitory door opening suddenly as Henry Keating stormed in.

"What is the meaning of this, gentlemen?" the prefects tone made it clear he was not happy at having to check in on them.

"Nothing, sir," Malfoy quickly replied, stepping back from Edmund. "Fawley here fell and I was making sure he was alright."

The fifth year glanced at the two of them for a moment before his eyes rested on Edmund's face. "What kind of idiot trips on his face before he can even start school," he muttered as the other boys guffawed around him. "Get to bed. All of you."

As he left, the light faded until all that was left was a faint green glow from the lanterns posted to the wall. Miserable and in pain, Edmund pulled his curtains back and stared u at the canopy. Pondering his luck and wondering if anyone else was having as miserable a night as he.

* * *

A/N: Let me know what y'all think!


	3. Chapter 3

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **Written by elk99**

 **Chapter 3**

 **A/N:** So here is the enxt chapter. Many of you probably noticed that there are a few slight changes from canon that I have made. I'll address some of the more obvious ones at the end of the chapter, but suffice to say that most of the changes will be either small or insignificant.

I also realized that I forgot to add this before last chapter, so All of this that is recognizable belongs to Madam Rowling. Including the Fawley name, which is an official canon Harry Potter family name (Check out Pottermore, Sacred 28). I hope you enjoy!

* * *

There was no bright sunlight or airy breeze that woke Edmund Fawley up from his fitful sleep, rather the chill of the dungeon dormitory caused him to first open his eyes. He peered around the curtains that surrounded his four-poster. The other boys seemed to still be asleep. Debating whether to catch a few more winks or begin getting ready for the day, he decided he would rather be showered and ready in case Malfoy tried anything fishy. Thoughts of Malfoy brought his mind back to the events of the last night. Groaning to himself, he slipped out of bed and shivered as his bare feet made contact with the stone floor. He slipped on some socks before padding over to the latrines and washroom. Looking in the mirror as he made his way to the shower, he saw that a large black and purple mark over his left eye. His cheek was bruised too. _Great, Merry is going to see this and immediately owl mum_.

As he let the hot water of the shower cascade around him, he pondered how he was going to make his experience as a Slytherin bearable. There really was no way out of it. He had to adapt. The sorting hat had never been wrong. His greatest potential was in the House of Serpents, but how to harness that potential without being the potential punching bag was the puzzle. He had made a mistake last night, he reasoned. Malfoy had Vincent and Greg in his pocket, and he doubted Blaise would stand up to him. The first three were all children of suspected Death Eaters. Blaise was an unknown, but an unknown who was not worth the risk at the moment. The girls were another unknown quantity. Pansy seemed taken with Draco and he had scared Daphne off last night. Things weren't looking good.

Miserably, he wrapped a towel around him as he got out of the shower. The soft cotton was a respite from the chill of the cold dungeons. Back at his four-poster, he began quietly rummaging through his trunk to put on his school uniform. His black school robes had been emblazoned with the green Slytherin Serpent Crest on the front, and a dark line of green ran down the edge of the robes. He found the color was actually quite nice, and stood proudly in front of the mirror before he remembered his bruised face. His respite from misery gone, he grabbed his bag and headed out of the door as Blaise started to get out of bed. The other three were stirring as well and he had no intention of lingering.

Trudging into the Common Room, he was relieved to see it was relatively empty, that is until he saw one of the older girls sitting at a study table look up as he walked in. It was the fifth-year girl prefect, Gemma. "Fawley," she swept over to him.

Instinctively, he put his head down to hide his face. "Hello," he muttered, self-conscious that she had noticed the ugly bruise.

To his surprise, a slender pale finger lifted his chin up, as she knelt to his eye level. Her hand prevented him from moving his head while she examined his face. The concern in her eyes surprised him. It reminded him of Merry when he was younger and Sullivan had gotten too rough. But this was not Merry, this was a Slytherin Prefect, friends with the Prefect who hadn't helped him last night. Finally releasing his chin, she held out her other hand. "Come on, Fawley," she muttered gently. "We can take care of this before anyone sees it."

Wordlessly taking the older girl's hand, he followed her to a corner of the common room, farthest away from the dormitory hallway. She pulled out a small mirror and slim box. Edmund had seen Merry handle a similar box before she'd go out with her friends. Gemma, much to Edmund's relief didn't seem to share Merry's habit of scolding him for getting into trouble. She silently applied a brush to his face and after a few moments, she picked up a mirror and held it up for his examination. The bruise was gone. There was a slight shadow around his eye, but it was impossible to see unless up close and it could be passed off for not enough sleep the previous night.

The prefect swept the materials back into her bag before looking back at Edmund. Looking down again, Edmund braced himself for the scolding about getting into trouble. Instead, he felt the same hand gently left his chin up. "You don't need to be afraid of me, Fawley," Gemma's voice was soft. "I know this will be an adjustment for you, and I'm willing to help you, but you need to trust me."

Nodding slowly, he fought back the onslaught of tears that threatened to pour out. His mother had always encouraged her children to cry, and cry loud. She said it was the best cure of sadness. Edmund had always hated it. He trained himself not to and had eventually built up a tolerance to it. But this, this was too much. He had finally found someone that was kind. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded silently. "Thank you," he managed to say with a straight face.

Gemma just nodded as she led him over to the table she had been reading at. "You an early riser?"

Nodding again, he sat down in the seat opposite her. She looked at him appraisingly. "Well we have a few minutes before much of the house comes down. Why don't we talk for a bit. She waited for his nod of assent, but Edmund knew it was less of a question then command. "So, Edmund J. Fawley, brother of Head Girl and Hogwarts Darling Meredith Fawley and star Keeper and ladies' man Sullivan Fawley. Both in Hufflepuff. Both coming from a long line of Hufflepuffs. Yet here you are."

He merely nodded at her mutely. This conversation was one he had been having with himself since he had been sorted.

The fifth-year girl continued to watch him. Finally, she sighed as she stood up from her chair. "Listen Fawley, I understand how you must be feeling. But do me a favor and let me help you. I certainly hope you are a better conversationalist with other girls because you've certainly left me hanging."

Blushing madly, Edmund lowered his gaze again. He was much too young to start liking girls, but that did not mean he hadn't noticed how pretty the prefect was. "Sorry," he studiously avoided her gaze. "I normally am better."

Finally looking up, he noticed the amusement in her eyes. "Come on, Fawley," she turned towards the entrance to the common room. "I'll walk to breakfast with you. We can keep talking on the way."

As Edmund walked with Gemma Farley through the dungeon corridors, he found himself growing more comfortable with the Prefect. She asked him about his Quidditch team and the two launched into a conversation about the upcoming season. He listened with amusement as Gemma told him her team was the Appleby Arrows.

"Most girls only like the Arrows because of the uniform," he quipped. "Don't tell me your one of those people."

"Watch it, firstie," she chuckled to herself. "We took out your precious Bats last season, and your returning Keeper is losing his touch."

The two continued to discuss Quidditch, interrupted briefly as the passed the Potions classrooms where Gemma told him he would have Professor Snape, his head of House. "Snape's a fair teacher," she muttered, "but make sure you prepare for each of his classes."

As they ascended to the Entrance Hall, Edmund had begun to feel more comfortable talking to Gemma Farley. He told her what happened in the dormitory last night with Malfoy. Her face remained impassive as she listened to Fawley describe his altercation with the Malfoy scion and what happened when Henry Keating had found them.

"Not much he could do I suppose," she sighed thinking after hearing how her fellow prefect handled the situation. "But I'm impressed you stood up to Draco. He couldn't have been expecting you to pull rank."

"Fat lot of good it did me," Edmund quipped sullenly. "I should have kept my mouth shut."

Gemma suddenly stopped him, halfway across the Entrance Hall and looked at him. "It's admirable to fight the fire with the same fire, Fawley, and in public, such a stunt on Malfoy would have earned you the respect of many rather than the attacks of a few. Don't forget that."

With that, they continued walking to the Great Hall, slipping into silence, Edmund still deciphering what she meant. The ceiling of the Great Hall reflected a bright sunny morning rather than the starry night of the prior evening. The fact that he wasn't being led in a procession and that there were only a handful of students sitting at the tables allowed him more time to survey the chamber. There were heavy oak paneled doors surrounding the hall, including two from the staff table, where the Professors seemed to be milling about. He saw Professor Sprout and Professor Dumbledore conversing with each other. Seeing Professor Sprout at the staff table made his heart lurch. She was a family friend and she had always been very nice to Edmund.

As Gemma led him to the Slytherin table, she turned to him. "Alright, Fawley," her tone brisker then before. "I have some prefect business to attend to. Do try and make friends, for me?" She took off without waiting for a response, making her way over to a Ravenclaw Prefect who did not look happy with having to wait for her. Sitting himself towards the end of the Slytherin table, he helped himself to a heap of eggs and potatoes.

While he was eating, other Slytherins started making their way into the hall. Theodore Nott and Adrian Pucey walked in together and sat down across from Fawley, paying him no mind as they discussed the upcoming Montrose Game against Falmouth. Suddenly very interested, Fawley listened silently as he ate while the two older boys argued. Nott claimed Falmouth's team this year would be able to outplay Montrose, but Pucey adamantly stood by his belief that the league's Season Champion would be able to keep the win. Seemingly not able to help himself, Edmund broke in before Nott had a chance to respond. "Falmouth's new Keeper puts them on equal standing, Montrose still has a better seeker, so unless the Magpies can't protect their own, they're assured a win, even if its only by the 150."

Pucey and Nott stared at him for a minute before the former started chuckling and nodding his head. "Well put," turning to Nott. "The first year has it right, Nott. I won't deny Falmouth is good, but they aren't there yet."

Nott merely grumbled under his breath while thumbing through his copy of Quidditch Monthly. Pucey turned to Edmund and held out his hand. "Adrian Pucey, second year."

Reaching across the table, Edmund shook it firmly, like his father had taught him too. "Edmund Fawley," he said.

If Pucey was surprised he didn't show it. "Your brother is Sullivan, right?" he asked. "The Hufflepuff Keeper?"

Sighing dramatically, Fawley rolled his eyes as he looked over at the Hufflepuff table. "And he doesn't let anyone forget it."

Chuckling again, Pucey eyed Edmund narrowly. "You got any of his talent?"

Edmund was taking a sip of his pumpkin juice when he heard Pucey's question, and barely managed to keep it down as he tried to answer him. "Ech, I'm not as good as him but yeah I can play pretty well."

"Position?" Pucey handed him a napkin as Nott, who had been ignoring the conversation sniggered as the juice dribbled down Edmund's chin.

"Beater," he muttered absently as he took the napkin to is chin.

When he looked up again, he realized he had captured Nott's attention and the boy was looking at him incredulously, while Pucey seemed to be deep in thought. "You play Beater?" Nott criticized. "You look lighter than a bludger."

Other students had started entering the Great Hall as it neared Professor Snape's required time for Slytherins to be at breakfast. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he bit back a sharp retort. "While some teams prefer to use giant thugs, who rely solely on brute force, the more strategic teams realize that its not about size but precision."

"What's your team, Fawley," Adrian Pucey asked as Nott spluttered at the idea of a Beater who wasn't the size of a Quidditch hoop.

"Ballycastle."

"That explains it," he chuckled. "Their beaters are wiry but deadly accurate."

Feeling slightly vindicated, Edmund merely grinned. "They have a better chance at taking down Montrose this year then, Falmouth."

Pucey grinned silently at him, and Edmund couldn't help feeling that he had made a connection with the boy. "You should come out to tryouts this year," he said as he buttered a piece of toast. "See what Flint makes of you. He put me on the reserves last year and this year I may actually make the team."

"You a chaser?" Edmund asked speculatively. Adrian had a very similar build to one of his brother's friends, Henry Truman, who played Chaser for Hufflepuff.

"And I'm damn good, too," Adrian boasted proudly. "Beat out Warrington for the top reserve spot last year."

The two continued to talk about Quidditch as the other Slytherins joined them at the table, once in awhile drawing Nott in, who was still skulking at the insults directed to his precious Falmouth Falcons. Eventually, they were interrupted by the arrival of Professor Snape, who had been making his way down the table passing out sheets of parchment to students, occasionally stopping to offer a word. As he reached the two second-years and Fawley, he took out two sheets of parchment and handed them to Nott and Adrian. Before giving Edmund his parchment, the Potions Master seemed to look him over before giving him a light sneer. "Welcome to Slytherin, Mister Fawley. You'll find we hold ourselves to a high standard here, not that you'll have a problem with that."

Edmund blushed brightly as he realized Snape was referring to his Blood Status, but the Potions Master had already swept away to discipline a particularly rambunctious group of third years before giving them their timetables. Never before had an adult discussed his status so publicly. He wanted to be embarrassed at the dig at his family's ancestral house, but also strangely proud that he had been singled out for something Snape should really see as positive. Wasn't Slytherin the house that championed purity?

Focusing on his surroundings again, he noticed Adrian looking at him speculatively, as if he had been able to read his mind. "It's a backhanded compliment, yes, but Professor Snape does that to everyone," he reassured him. "Make sure your work is done and you'll be fine. He's a fair teacher to those who deserve it."

Nodding mutely, he decided to focus on the timetable his head of House had just given him. He looked to his right to ask the girl sitting next to him if she knew where Transfiguration, his first class was when he realized it was Daphne Greengrass.

"Fawley," she greeted him shortly. He cringed at the memory of what he had said last night, and it was obvious she was remembering it too.

"Look, Greengrass, err, Daphne," he stuttered. _What a great start I'm off to._ "I didn't mean what I said last night. I was trying to defend myself and I went too far."

"You didn't say anything that was not true, Fawley," she continued to focus on spreading jam on her toast.

Steeling himself, Edmund could see Pucey eavesdropping on the conversation. This was a test for him, on multiple fronts. People like Daphne, Pucey and Nott, he could befriend them, but he had to convince them he belonged. He could afford no more slip ups. If he messed this up, he might as well beg his parents for a transfer to Beauxbatons or perhaps Ilvernorny where he'd be even farther away.

"No, Daphne. It wasn't true. Superiority comes from prestige, and prestige comes not only from blood but from words." Daphne's continued to focus her efforts on her toast and remained silent. Gritting his teeth, he continued. "In my rash efforts to save face, I carelessly threw a political and archaic foundation on you that rather then benefited me, hurt you, and that was wrong."

He held his breath as he waited for her to respond. He realized at this point that quite a few Slytherins had overheard his apology. Adrian gave him a small nod in approval and he could see Gemma giving him a wink before returning to her conversation with her friends. Daphne finally looked over at him. She had icy blue eyes that seemed to bore into his cranium, testing to see if he was genuine or not. He had to force himself not to blink or look away.

Finally, Daphne gave him a small nod. "Apology accepted, Fawley," she gave a wan smile, "mostly because you obviously don't like groveling and you did it anyway."

Feeling a tension lift off his shoulders, he rolled his eyes dramatically at her. "Don't get used to it I only needed to ask a question," he joked.

Raising an eyebrow at him as she put her hair in a ponytail she finally gave another small smile as she recognized the jab as friendly. "You're right by the way," she told him quietly, gesturing to Adrian and Nott who were now caught up in another argument about the superiority of Falmouth. "About the beaters. Size isn't everything."

Edmund couldn't help but smile that he was continuing to bond with his housemates over the great wizarding sport. "Do you play," he asked.

"Nah, but I'm a good spectator."

The two continued to talk about Quidditch. Edmund was impressed with Daphne's knowledge of the game, even if she was an Appleby fan. They were in the middle of a discussion on the new Seeker for the Wasps when Henry Keating told all the first years to make their way to their first class. In two lines, the Slytherin first years filed out of the Great Hall and headed towards the Transfiguration Wing on the first floor. As he turned out of the Great Hall, he could see Adrian, Nott and the other second-year Slytherins forming up as well.

Tracy Davis and Helen Runcorn were in the front of the line, followed by Edmund and Daphne. He had rushed them to the front to put distance between Draco and his entourage that took up the back of the line. At least now he had Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode between him and Malfoy's group. Keating must have given Tracy or Emma directions, because Edmund would have been hopelessly lost without them leading the way. The Hogwarts' staircases seemed to have a mind of their own, and after eventually persuading a particularly stubborn set of stairs to head in the right direction, and escape a water-balloon throwing poltergeist by the name of Peeves, the first year Slytherins arrived safely on the first floor.

Pushing open the door, Edmund and Daphne made their way to the front of the room. He figured Malfoy and his gang would sit in the back to avoid trouble, and he wanted to stay as far away from them as possible. He shared a table with Daphne, and Millicent Bulstrode sat with Helen Runcorn right behind them. As predicted, Malfoy sat in the back with Crabbe, while Goyle sat with Zabini directly in front of them, leaving Pansy and Tracy in the middle.

Briefly looking around for Professor McGonagall, Edmund was taking out his Transfiguration when he noticed a tabby cat sitting upright on the desk. His thoughts about how uncharacteristically human like the cat was acting were interrupted as the classroom door banged open again as the Ravenclaw first years walked in. He made eye contact with Terry, who was walking in with two other boys. Rather than return Edmund's discreet wave, he turned away coldly. _So, this is what it's like to be in Slytherin_.

Edmund felt a surge of anger towards Terry who had been warm and friendly to him on the train. Turning back to the front of the room, his hopes that no one saw his wave were dashed as he noticed the tabby was staring at him intently. _At least it wasn't Malfoy._ Scowling at the cat, he turned to Daphne. "Wonder where McGonagall is," he muttered. "This cat keeps staring at me and its beginning to wear thin."

Before Daphne was allowed time to respond, the tabby leapt from the desk and suddenly in the blink of an eye, Professor McGonagall stood before him. Horrified that the intimidating Deputy Headmistress had seen his rejection by Terry and his words to Daphne, he slouched further in his chair. It did not look like his good luck from this morning would last him much longer.

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall's transformation had effectively silenced the students and after a few moments, the Ravenclaws clapped enthusiastically. Fawley was too embarrassed to clap, but noticed that none of his other housemates did either. Shaking himself from his embarrassment, he placed his quill in the inkwell. Sullivan had often complained how Ravenclaws racked up so many points in classes that Hufflepuffs had to make it up on the Quidditch Pitch. Edmund was not going to give Terry Boot easy access to those points, certainly not after his cold welcome.

"Welcome to your first class of Transfiguration," Professor McGonagall's clipped no-nonsense voice pushed through his thoughts as he began to focus on the lesson. "Can anyone tell me what type of Transfiguration you just witnessed?"

Edmund saw Terry's hand shoot in the air. Luckily, his hand was quicker. "Yes, Mr.…." the Transfiguration Professor affixed him with a stern look.

"Fawley, ma'am," Edmund stood as he introduced himself. "Please ma'am, the branch was Transformation, specifically Animagi."

"Well said, Mr. Fawley," Professor McGonagall walked behind her desk. "Take five points for Slytherin House."

The lesson continued more as a lecture on the dangers of Transfiguration which ended with a warning that horseplay would not be tolerated with the threat of exile from the subject. He couldn't be sure but Edmund was sure her gaze lingered on the back of the room, where Draco Malfoy sat. Occasionally, McGonagall would ask a question and he continued to battle Terry and the other Ravenclaws. Eventually, Daphne and Helen began offering responses as well. Pleased that he had been able to earn fifteen points for his house by the end of the class, the homework assignment they were assigned couldn't even drag his spirits down.

Walking out of the classroom, he glanced at his timetable and saw that he had almost a full hour before lunch. Not inclined to head back to the dungeons, he turned to Daphne and gestured up a flight of stairs. "Want to get this out of the way in the Library before lunch?"

Not looking like she particularly fancied a trip back to the dungeons either, she agreed and the two were joined by Helen and Tracey as they made their way up to the library.

* * *

The four Slytherins plowed through as much of McGonagall's homework, but their own progress was hampered by their own excitement as they talked to each other, or rather, the girls talked, and Edmund listened. He was pleased to know that not all of them came from historically Slytherin families. Tracy's father had been in Ravenclaw and Helen's siblings were all in the Eagle's tower even though both her parents were Serpents. They briefly discussed Quidditch, their own families, and what they thought of the other people in their year. Tracey and Daphne, whose families were friends and arrived at Kings Cross together had sat with the Patil twins, one of whom had gone to Gryffindor and the other sorted into Ravenclaw. Daphne was in the middle of a particularly vehement disparagement of Parvati Patil, the Gryffindor, when Madam Pince shooed them out of "her" library due to the declining rate of studying.

Laughing together, the four friends rushed out of the library and decided to head to the Great Hall a bit early. As they turned a corner, Edmund stopped short as he saw his brother and sister standing in the stairway waiting for him.

Tracey was the first to notice Edmund's demeanor change, and followed his gaze to where Meredith and Sullivan Fawley stood. The others noticed quickly as the four finally reached the two Fawley siblings. Edmund had begun to hope that this altercation could be avoided, especially today, as he knew Merry would be able to notice the makeup if she looked closely at him. "Meredith, Sullivan," he said as calmly as he could, not able to meet either set of eyes. "These are my friends and housemates, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Helen Runcorn."

Sullivan's frown merely deepened as he made the introductions, but his manners as the scion of the Fawley family obligated him to dip his head and mutter his greetings. Meredith however, smiled broadly at the three girls.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, all," she said warmly. "I am Meredith Fawley, but please do call me Merry. How are you all enjoying Hogwarts?"

As if Merry's words had broken through a web of suspense, as Edmund noted that they often did, the girls began to tell her how much they were enjoying Hogwarts. Edmund noticed there was a certain guarded look on all their faces, however, and attributed it to the level of distrust usually aimed at Slytherin. Merry must have noticed it to and she shot a brief look at Edmund. "Well, as you may know, I am this year's head girl, so if you girls ever need anything feel free to let me know," she gave another smile to them before turning to Edmund. "Would you do me the courtesy, Edmund, of a private word?"

Nodding silently, he followed Sullivan and Meredith into a small alcove in the hallway. He signaled his friends to go on without him. "I'll be down shortly," he called to Helen as she nodded before following Tracey down the staircase. Daphne seemed a bit more hesitant before finally nodding and following the other girls. Merry watched them leave before turning back to Edmund and putting her hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Ed?" she asked with concern. Edmund cringed to himself. He was only called Ed by his siblings when they were really concerned.

"I'm fine," he muttered nervously. "Quite a surprise, eh?"

He looked up in surprise as Sullivan finally let out a snort. "Surprise?" he asked angrily. "Really, Ed just what do you think you're playing at messing around with those guys?"

Feeling the heat rush to his face, Edmund bit back a biting reply. He had gotten quite good at that in the past few hours. "I was sorted into Slytherin, Sully. It wasn't my choice."

His brothers face paled as he said his house name. "Look, Ed, we can talk to Sprout and Dumbledore and get you away from those people. The Hat obviously made a mistake."

Meredith winced as Sullivan kept talking, but Edmund was too angry to risk movement, thinking that maybe if Sullivan stopped he could give himself time to calm down. Sullivan kept on going though, and finally he reached the last straw. "And if they refuse to listen to reason we can probably persuade mum and dad to send you to Ilvermorny or something so that-"

"Enough," Edmund hissed. That last comment had been the final straw, and he could see on his brothers face that he knew it too. "Some of 'those people' have been perfectly nice to me, which may come as a shock to your biased views. This isn't about me being in Slytherin, this is you not being able to handle the embarrassment of having a Slytherin for a brother."

His disgust and anger only grew as he saw Sullivan grimace again when he mentioned his house name. "Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!" His voice had started to raise. "Get over it Sully. Maybe I like being in Slytherin and there's no way I'm going to beg to be transferred. Anywhere."

He could see that his last comment had been too much for his brother. "Do whatever you want, Ed," he shoved him roughly. "Have a nice time with your little snakes," he glowered again before storming off towards the Entrance Hall.

Still simmering, Edmund rounded on Merry, who had a disappointed look on her face. "Don't mind him," she soothed. "He'll come around."

"No, he won't," Edmund replied mirthlessly. "He's embarrassed, and grandfather has always said that pride is man's greatest obstacle. Even if he didn't mean what he said he won't face it."

Merry pressed him with a critical eye. "And did you mean everything you said? About wanting to be in Slytherin? About being happy there?"

Shifting his feet, he lowered his head silently. "Obviously I wanted to be in Hufflepuff," he muttered. "But that was obviously not to be. I have to do the best I can, and I have to prove my place, alone."

Merry, who understood her brother better than anyone else nodded silently before giving him a hug. "Make sure you write to mum," she whispered in his ear, the long waves of her brown hair tickling his nose. "And I am always here for you, as your sister."

Edmund looked up to watch her head down to the Entrance Hall. He was glad she hadn't offered to walk with him to lunch. She understood he needed to do this on his own. Eventually collecting himself, he made his way down the stairs and into the Great Hall. He caught eyes with Daphne who was in the middle of lunch with Tracey and Helen. There was no sign of his siblings at the Hufflepuff table, but he assumed Merry was probably reading his brother the riot act for his most unbecoming behavior. Reaching his friends, he sank down into the seat Daphne had saved for him.

"Thanks," he muttered to her.

"You really shouldn't mutter, Fawley," Tracey looked at him sternly. "My mother told me its unattractive when boys do that."

"Get back to me in a few years, Davis," he responded cheekily. "And we will see if my muttering is that much of a detriment to you."

A fourth-year boy who was sitting within earshot snorted at the comment, causing him to begin to choke on the piece of bologna he had shoved down his throat. Taken advantage of the others distraction to help the older boy, Daphne turned to face him. "You alright?" she asked quietly.

"All good," he gave her a brief smile as he helped himself to a piece of shepherd's pie. "My brother's just a prat and my sister is being unusually nosy."

"Well, better eat up," she replied, more briskly as Tracey and Helen turned their attention back to the other two. "We have Charms with the Hufflepuffs after this."

"Just my luck.."

* * *

 **A/N:** Alright so yes, Theodore Nott is a second year. Nott wasn't a hugely necessary character in the stories as far as I am concerned and honestly being a year older doesn't change much. He could still very well be a huge supporter of the Dark Forces and all that yada yada yada.

Second: Pucey. There is no confirmed source saying what year Adrian Pucey is in at Hogwarts, although his last appearance is in The Order of the Phoenix. This leaves some latitude on where exactly to place him, and because I want to keep this somewhat close to canon, I put Pucey only one year ahead of the main gang so it makes his interaction easier to explain.

Third: Gemma Farley was the fifth-year Slytherin Prefect on the old Pottermore site, so as far as I am concerned, she is a completely canon character.

I know the previous two chapters were somewhat short but I can promise that future chapters will be closer to this length. Next chapter will give a glimpse at how some of fawley's childhood friends treat him now that he's in a different house!

Let me know what y'all think!


	4. Chapter 4

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **By elk99**

 **Chapter 4**

 **a/n:** Apologies for the long wait and the short chapter. This one was particularly hard to write because I needed to get this one out as the last stage-setter chapter if that makes sense. The next chapter will be much more action filled and after that first year will go by a lot faster. Right now according to what I have fleshed out I'm probably going to have the earlier years fly by a bit quicker and save most of the action for the later years, for the sake of keeping this similar to canon. The next chapter is almost done and will be posted at a much more prompt rate. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The feeling of dread that had been building up inside Edmund since he learned they would be having Charms with the Hufflepuffs set him on edge as the troupe of Slytherins headed up to the Second Floor. His hopes of a quick and unnoticed entrance were dashed as Professor Flitwick evidently had not arrived yet, and the Hufflepuff first-years were waiting outside the door. He could see Susan and Hannah Abbott talking excitedly about something, and Ernie Macmillan was talking to a kid he didn't recognize. He felt a twinge of jealousy as he saw kids he had known such as the Abbots, Bones, and Macmillans all together, but he quickly squashed those thoughts. He was a Slytherin and he was going to be proud to be a Slytherin.

Hannah saw him first and shot him an apprehensive glance before nudging Susan slightly, turning to him, Susan gave him a small smile as the Slytherins reached the door. Macmillan was giving him suspicious looks, but that couldn't be helped. "How are you?" Susan's concerned voice broke through his thoughts. He gave her a wan smile and gestured helplessly.

"It's not all bad, I'm doing alright."

Susan and Hannah smiled sympathetically. He could tell they didn't believe him, but he didn't want their pity. He was stuck in Slytherin and he had already made friends with a few of them, even if he had to deal with Malfoy's gang as well. Even Hufflepuff has insufferable gits. _Merlin knows Macmillan's pretentiousness was almost as bad as Malfoy's arrogance. Almost..._

Yet as if fate could read thoughts, Malfoy took that moment to walk up to the rest of the Hufflepuffs, Vincent and Gregory creating a type of barrier between the Badgers and the rest of the snakes. "Hufflepuffs," he sneered. "It looks like Charms will move at an incredibly slow pace with you lot holding us back."

Macmillan bristled, while Wayne Hopkins fixed Malfoy with a hard glare. The boy who had been talking to Macmillan and another he didn't know looked on nervously, while Kevin Entwhistle quietly said something to them. _Muggleborns._

Malfoy had apparently noticed as well. Curling his lip at the muggleborn boys, he turned to Macmillan. "And now even you seem to disgrace your kind, Macmillan, blood traitor like you are."

That last comment was too much for Ernie Macmillan. His wild punch at the blonde Slytherin boy was deflected by Vincent, and before the bigger boy could retaliate, Hannah and Wayne had pulled Ernie away and behind the rest of the group, but not before he was able to lock eyes with Edmund. "So, this is the kind of life you choose Fawley?" He challenged. "A bunch of wizard bullies over your own family?"

All the eyes in the corridor, including a few older students who had been passing by turned to look at where Edmund was trying to melt into the floor. He realized that Macmillan's question left him with no right answer. People like Wayne Hopkins and Susan, he had known them all his life. He knew that eventually they'd be sorted into Hufflepuff together, or so they had all thought. He hadn't been sorted into Hufflepuff though, and was instead in Slytherin, a house where he was already struggling with making friends in. Finally, in a voice that was braver then his own but not as convincing as he'd like to sound, he stepped up to Macmillan, the rest of the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins has surrounded them. Even Malfoy seemed to be interested in what Edmund would say next.

Drawing a deep breath, he looked straight ahead at Macmillan's blue eyes. "The noble House of Salazar Slytherin is not some common 'Wizarding Bully Group,' Ernie," he hissed, angry that the Hufflepuff had put his sorting into the spotlight."

Edmund was saved from further action by a small "Hemhem," from behind. Not fighting on the first day, I hope are we boys?" Professor Flitwick looked at Edmund and Ernie sternly.

Recovering before the other boy, Edmund looked up and smiled at Professor Flitwick. "Of course not, Professor. The Macmillans are… old friends."

The diminutive Charms Master looked him over carefully. For a brief moment, it seemed as if Flitwick would call him out on his lie, but rather, the Professor sighed and opened the door to his classroom, motioning for the students to file in. Edmund was the first through the door, ignoring the look of anger on some of the Hufflepuffs faces as he sat down next to Daphne and Helen. Neither girl said anything about what happened out in the hallway, for which he was grateful. Standing up to his old friends had been difficult, especially in defending a group of people that was still deciding whether to accept him or not. Flitwick kept a watchful eye on him through the beginning of class as if he was going to start trouble on a moment's notice.

As the class progressed, with Flitwick testing knowledge on beginning enchantment theory, Edmund found himself to be answering questions with relative ease. The amount of points he began to rack up for Slytherin had begun to impress the Professor who took to calling on him before his hand was even in the air. By the end of class, with the promise that they might start practicing actual magic within the next two weeks, Edmund exited the classroom on a high from the fifty points he had earned Slytherin that day in Charms, once again choosing to ignore the glares sent his way by the other Hufflepuffs. Wayne Hopkins had been the only one to answer a question right that Edmund hadn't gotten, which greatly upset Macmillan and greatly cheered Malfoy. As they made their way down to the dungeons for a respite before dinner, Malfoy slung his arm over Edmund's before giving him a crooked sneer that seemed to be his attempt at a genuine smile. "Keep that up, Fawley," he said, "and we'll get the message across. Blood matters."

Being careful not to react, he fixed Malfoy with a wan smile, not intent on alienating him any longer. "Of course."

The words came across a little more sarcastic then he had intended, but Malfoy had seemed not to notice. He had walked off with Vincent and Greg to enter the common room. The other first years had already gone in ahead during Malfoy's exchange with him. Entering the common room, he looked for some of the girls, but they had all seemed to be in their dormitory. Malfoy and his gang also seemed to be in their dorms, and he had no intention of risking another conversation just yet. Adrian Pucey must have taken pity on him standing in the entrance forlornly, as he called to him. "Oi, Fawley, get over here!"

Walking over to Adrian, he realized that he was talking to two boys, one was slim with spiky brown hair, maybe a year or two older then him, and a much bigger fifth year who looked more troll than man. "Fawley," Adrian gestured to the thuggish boy, skipping all pleasantries, "this is Marcus Flint. The House Quidditch Captain. Flint, Fawley is Sullivan Fawley's younger brother."

Flint fixed him with an eye. "Average," he said at last. "Boser is bigger and is fast. This squirt couldn't protect one end of the Quidditch hoops from the other."

Before Fawley could protest with indignation, regardless of the truth in the statement, Pucey waved him off. "He doesn't play Keeper. Just his brother. Fawley here claims to be a good beater."

Flint looked him over again. "We have two good beaters."

Rolling his eyes, Pucey tried again. "At least put him on the reserves. If he isn't good, we can see at tryouts."

Flint fixed him with another hard stare that was beginning to make Edmund uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke again, this time to Edmund. "Check the notice board for tryouts. If you're as good as Pucey says, we'll get you a reserve spot."

Turning away, Flint walked over to some of his friends in the corner of the common room. Pucey didn't spare the Captain another look as he grinned at Edmund. "Now you have no excuse to not be at tryouts, Fawley."

Edmund smiled briefly. Briefly imagining the look on his brother's face if he was to be on the Slytherin Quidditch team, he resolved that he would take Adrian's advice and go to the tryouts. It couldn't hurt to try. He settled into one of the chairs with Adrian, Nott and a few other friends who had gotten their hands on a preview of the new Kestrel Roster. Pucey and his friends were definitely more into Quidditch then he was, but for a few minutes before dinner, Edmund basked in conversation with people that accepted him regardless of his name or status. It felt normal, and for the first time, he felt at home in Slytherin House.

* * *

The rest of the week passed by quietly. The Slytherin and Hufflepuff first years had drawn the short straw and had History of Magic right after breakfast the next day with the incredibly boring and incredibly dead ghost of professor Binns. Rather than submit to a nap like many of his classmates during Binns' lecture, Edmund resolved to write letters to his family. Writing the letters was a good use of his time, but took much longer than necessary as he also kept an ear out for anything important. He privately wondered whether Binns' death had been from the boredom of his own lectures.

Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell was maddening, mostly because Edmund felt an irrational annoyance at Quirrell's sputter, and his turban. In fact, everything about the Professor rubbed him the wrong way. The class became a competition between Edmund, Daphne, Tracy, Helen and the Ravenclaws over who could rack up the most points. While it was not as interesting as Charms had been, Edmund felt he had done adequately enough in the class, although he suspected Quirell to be a rubbish Professor who taught from the book much more than his own "experiences." The one good thing from Quirrell's class had been the lack of homework, giving time to finish Flitwick's assignment on wand movement theory by Thursday.

Astronomy with the Hufflepuff's was dreadfully boring, but also relatively easy work. The star charts Professor Sinistra showed the class seemed rather straightforward, and midnight stargazing didn't seem that bad once a week.

On Wednesday mornings, the Slytherins had Double Herbology with the Ravenclaws, and Edmund used his prior knowledge of Herbology to once again battle the Eagles on their knowledge of magical plants. Unlike his other classes, Professor Sprout started them off immediately on Puffapods, and by the end of the session, the first years trudged their way back to the Castle for lunch. Professor Sprout's sad smile in his direction was the only acknowledgement Edmund received from her. Had things gone according to how they should have gone, Pomona Sprout would have been his head of House, not Severus Snape.

His Head of House's reputation had certainly made an impression on the Slytherin first years, and Edmund spent the evening with Daphne in the library finishing their homework and preparing for Potions the next day. He had heard really awful things about the Hogwarts Potions Master from his brother, but so far Adrian and Gemma had told him Snape was fair to those who put the effort in. So far, Edmund had done well in all his classes, and with Potions being the last class of the week, and the class where he could prove himself to his Head of House, he was determined to excel.

"There she goes again," Daphne whispered conspiratorially to him across the table. Looking up, Edmund saw the bushy-haired know-it-all that had been identified as Hermione Granger, a muggleborn, grabbing a tome from the shelf that looked to be about twice her head size. The Gryffindor girl was frequently in the library and Daphne and Edmund, had never seen the library without her presence. The girl seemed to read at an alarming rate and was constantly jumping up from her seat in search of a bigger and bigger tome. While at one-point Edmund would have paid Granger no heed, he had been drawn into Daphne's fun and while they'd never say anything to her face, found it quite amusing to mimic the Gryffindor's frantic search of reference material.

Chuckling quietly, Edmund looked back down at Bagshot's, "A History of Magic," as he scribbled some final thoughts down for his History of Magic essay. "I guess I know where tomorrow's competition will come from," he laughed quietly as he pulled out his potions book from the bag.

Edmund and his friends had begun referring to their classes with the other houses as 'the competition' over who could get more points in class. Potions would be their one and only class with the Gryffindors, and Draco Malfoy had not let anyone forget it. He had been stressing to everyone how they needed to upstage the Gryffindors in everything, and potions was no exception. Edmund personally didn't care about the natural rivalry with Gryffindor, nor for Malfoy's obsession with Harry Potter, but he did care about getting points for his House, his modus operandi for being accepted as a true Slytherin. Yes, he would be prepared for his potions class, but he also wouldn't lose propriety if Granger took things too far. He was a Fawley after all and he had to behave a certain way, especially as a Slytherin. Looking up to ask Daphne a question about the brewing fires the book was discussing, he found her still fascinated by Granger, who had gone to get another book.

"Oi," he snapped his fingers in his friend's face. "Help me figure this reading out before you daydream about a Gryffindor."

* * *

The first potions class with the Gryffindors went by better then could be expected. Daphne and Edmund had spent a great deal of time preparing for Professor Snape's class in the hopes of impressing their Head of House, but he had been more focused on punishing the incompetency and disrespect the Gryffindors were showing in class. It had all started when Professor Snape called out Potter when the Gryffindor had been doodling in class. The boy had been scribbling on his parchment before Professor Snape called him out, that much was easy to see. It was no surprise that he got asked incredibly difficult questions.

It was also no surprise that Granger knew all the answers, but when it was evident that Professor Snape was not calling on her because it was Potter's punishment to bear, he was surprised when she didn't back down. He had somehow ended up sitting next to Pansy and heard her whispering something about the muggleborn's lack of tact and respect towards the Professor. He couldn't help but agree with her. If this was how muggles behaved it was no wonder that some wizarding circles such as Slytherin House were hesitant on opening up to those of muggle parentage. He remembered the long lectures he had received from his mother over how muggles were just like wizards after one of her sessions in the Wizengamot. If his mother could see this, she'd have to rethink her words.

By the end of the class, Edmund couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the Gryffindors, even if their trouble was entirely their own fault. After Professor Snape laid down the rules quite clearly with Potter, it was surprising and a little bit sad that the lions continued to goof off in a very serious and dangerous setting like a potions lab. Neville Longbottom came from a very respected pureblood family and he should have known better than to goof off in front of dangerous materials.

Pushing the Gryffindors out of his mind, Edmund breathed a sigh of relief as the cold air of the dungeons replaced the potion infused stench of the laboratory. Potions would definitely not be his favorite thing, but he could manage. As he and Daphne made their way down to the Common Room to drop off their bags, began to read the letter he had received from his mother earlier at breakfast. He was a bit hurt that his father had declined to write to him, especially as he remembered how joyously he had written to Sullivan when he had been sorted into Hufflepuff, but at the very least his mother's letter had been full of assurances that the family was very happy for him and wished him the best.

"How'd your mother take the news?" Tracey asked from behind him.

"Not too badly," he shrugged. "Wasn't a Howler, not that it would do much good anyway."

Tracy sniggered. There had been quite a commotion at the Slytherin table when one of the older students, Avery, had received a Howler from his mother over a detention he had received. It had been a bit more then entertaining and after seeing the cool look Snape directed to the table from his seat on the dais, Edmund knew that it wouldn't be the last tongue-lashing the older student received. Professor Snape highly discouraged impropriety at meal times.

Shrugging off his bag as he walked through the entrance, he quickly claimed one of the black leather chairs underneath a lamp to finish his homework for the weekend. Curled up in the armchair with "A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration" may not have been the best way to spend his Friday afternoon, but it was certainly better that he got it all done. Maybe over the weekend, he could practice his spells in a classroom or something. So, intent was he on his reading, he would have missed dinner had Henry Keating not whacked him upside the head telling him to scram to dinner before trying to round up some second years who had run afoul.

* * *

The next week began without incident. Pansy sat next to him in Transfiguration, much to Edmund's surprise and he found out that when she wasn't fawning over every word Draco Malfoy said, she was actually very intelligent. Terry Boot was still giving Edmund death stares which he begun to return. The two battled for dominance in Transfiguration eventually even the other Ravenclaws were shut out as Terry and Edmund hogged every question McGonagall lobbed at them. By Wednesday's class, the stern Professor had had enough. After Terry had rushed to answer a question about the Transfiguration theory without being called, she snapped.

"That will be five points from Ravenclaw, Mister Boot," she looked at him sternly. "Stay after class."

While Edmund was sure she couldn't see the smug smile he made to the Ravenclaws, she turned to him as well. "I'll be seeing you after as well, Mr. Fawley," before moving on with the lesson.

While Pansy cooed sympathetically, he was hard pressed to keep the glower from his face. _Stupid obnoxious Ravenclaws, always thinking they're better than everyone else.._

As he fumed, Edmund felt an anger building up against the entire school. Ever since he had been sorted into Slytherin, the rest of the school hard turned his back on him. The friends he used to have were gone at the pop of a bubble, those who had been friendly with him on the train had quickly changed their tune. Dean Thomas and another Gryffindor had glared at him just the other day as he was leaving the library. Susan and Hannah avoided him as much as they could. Neville Longbottom squeaked pathetically last week when he ran into him accidently, and Sally-Anne Perks had given him an earful after he caught her when she tripped on the trick stair. His parents did not write often, and his brother glowered at him whenever they passed each other in the hallway. Not even all the Slytherins had accepted him. Daphne and Tracey had been great, and so had Gemma Farley and Adrian Pucey. Adrian and Gemma were older students, however, and they couldn't be expected to hang around a first-year all the time, and Daphne and Tracey were great study companions, but tended to start talking about girl things that he wasn't supposed to hear.

No, he didn't have anyone he could confide in. There was really no one. It was Hogwarts against him. His family was against him, three-fourths of the school was against him, the staff were probably against him too, if McGonagall had singled him out with Terry Boot when he hadn't even done anything. Barely paying attention to the remainder of the lecture, he sat in stony silence until McGonagall dismissed the rest of the class. Daphne and Pansy shot him sympathetic glances as the latter began talking to Bulstrode and Daphne giving him a quick wave as they headed towards the dungeons. Before long, it was just Terry and him with their Transfiguration Professor. As the last student filed out, a Ravenclaw named Brocklehurst, Edmund stood up and walked to Professor McGonagall's desk, his previous glower masked in a controlled look. Terry was not far behind him.

The two of them waited for what felt like an eternity. Edmund was happy to see that Terry fidgeted quite often as Professor McGonagall wrote at her desk. He himself kept himself calm and collected. He had received this treatment often at his Grandfather's hand. Finally, McGonagall pierced the two of them with a hard stare. "When did the two of you gain an interest in Care of Magical Creatures, Mr. Boot?" she asked quietly.

"I don't have one, Professor," Terry corrected her. That was a mistake, Edmund mused.

Indeed, it was. At that, Professor McGonagall stood up to her full fight, towering over the two first-years. "Then perhaps you could enlighten me, Mister Boot," she scolded, "why you and young Mister Fawley have seen fit to turn my class into a kneazle den?"

Edmund was enjoying watching Terry stutter at their Professor's withering gaze. She must have thought so too because in an instant, she had switched to him. "And you, Mister Fawley, what have you to say for yourself?"

The look McGonagall sent his way was enough to make anyone cower. Luckily, spending a week in Slytherin had taught Edmund to keep his emotions covered. In his most neutral voice, he responded, "We got carried away, ma'am. I'm dreadfully sorry."

An abrupt apology was not what the Professor was expecting, and a momentary look of shock crossed her face before it was replaced with her all too familiar stern countenance. "See that it does not happen again, Mister Fawley. You may go."

Biting down the smug satisfaction that threatened to spread across his face as he saw Terry's shocked face, he quickly left the classroom, grateful to not have lost house points. As he made his way up to the library he saw Stephen Cornfoot and Mandy Brocklehurst lingering on a set of stairs that would presumably lead to the Ravenclaw Tower. His irritation with Terry bubbled all over again as the two looked at him with distrust. "Your know it all friend was held back a bit longer," he sneered at them. "He really shouldn't be so presumptuous in the future."

Satisfied he had ruffled their feathers, he continued to stalk towards the library, still fuming when he suddenly crashed head on with an inordinately bushy animal.

"Merlin's bloody knickerbockers!" he swore as he crashed to the floor, the contents of his bag strewn everywhere.

"Sorry, so very sorry, really, I'm sorry," Edmund turned to look at Hermione Granger gathering up his things frantically. "So very sorry," the girl continued shaking her head.

"Good grief, Granger," Edmund snarled dusting off his robes. "Have you considered lifting your head out of the book when not in the library?"

The Gryffindor said nothing, and the lack of response took him by surprise. He had often heard Gryffindors were rash and quick to respond to an insult. Goodness knows he had seen Potter and Weasley bite the bait Draco and Professor Snape had left many a time. Hermione Granger was no such case, however. In fact, she seemed dour, and lacking the usual Gryffindor courage. He may have been imagining it, but Edmund thought he saw a tear in the corner of the witch's eye. It occurred to him that he had always seen Hermione Granger alone. In the Great Hall she could be seen talking to one of the Prefects or sitting with Sophie Roper and Sally-Anne Perks, but he had never actually seen her talk to the two other girls. Neither of them accompanied her to the library. It was evident that Granger did not have any friends in Gryffindor. In fact, Edmund realized with a pang, that she was in a similar situation to him had he not quickly repaired relations with Daphne.

"Listen, Granger," he muttered quietly as he took the last of his supplies from her outstretched hand. "Don't think I want to be friends with you, because I don't…. but if I'm in the library at the same time as you… you are welcome to join me."

The look on the Gryffindor girl's face was a priceless image of shock that managed to lift his own spirits. "Uh… th- thanks," she stammered as she hurried down the hallway.

Chuckling to himself, Edmund hurried up to the library to see if Daphne and Tracey were still there. Hopefully he could get a head start on the homework load before the weekend.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Tale Of Rivals**

 **By elk99**

 **Chapter 5**

 **A/N: So here is chapter five. I did get a message about not having harry Potter around often enough. Well it's been four chapters. Five including this one. You can't expect Harry and Edmund, two individuals from different backgrounds and rival Houses to be hand in hand by chapter two did you? Relax. All things come in good time. I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

Edmund Fawley was seething as he stalked down to the dungeons with Daphne. Tracey had gone with Helen to the Hospital Wing to get something for Helen's nose, which wouldn't stop swelling after it had been hit by her broomstick in the Slytherins' first flying lesson with the Gryffindors. Unfortunately for Helen, her injury was overlooked by Longbottom's awful broom handling capabilities, or lack thereof when Madam Hooch had to rush him to the Hospital Wing after the Gryffindor idiot managed to let himself fall from a broom he shouldn't have been flying in the first place. It wasn't Helen's inconvenience that had set Edmund on edge, it was Malfoy. It was always the Slytherin brat.

The Slytherins had rushed out to the grounds where they would meet Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and the Gryffindors straight after lunch that day. Malfoy had led the way with Crabbe and Goyle, letting the entire form know about his skills on a broom as he strutted across the field. Thankfully there had been little time for an altercation with the Gryffindors as Madam Hooch lined them up with brooms quickly and began the lesson. Edmund had been slightly disappointed when his broom did not rise immediately upon his command, but he felt vindicated as many others such as Malfoy were having trouble as well. With narrowed eyes he watched as Harry Potter's broom had risen to his hand almost instantaneously. Finally, with a serious amount of will directed at the banged-up excuse of a broom, he managed to summon it directly into his palm. A few seconds before Malfoy did he thought with satisfaction.

Ever so slowly, the remainder of his year-mates began getting their brooms. Daphne was getting particularly frustrated with hers, but he paid her no mind, instead taking the opportunity to examine the Gryffindors. He only shared Potions with the Lions, and as he sat in the front, it was hard to very well size them up. They all seemed somewhat interesting. There was Dean Thomas who was looking at the broom in his hand suspiciously while talking to Seamus Finnegan. Seamus, a half-blood had visited Promenade-On-Finn once when they were younger and Madam Fawley had still worked for the Ministry. Mrs. Finnegan had been her colleague and had brought Seamus with her for a working meeting one day. The two had seen each other on and off through the years but they couldn't be called friends. Especially not now.

Ronald Weasley had just managed to get his broom into his hand. Sullivan talked about the Weasley twins with a certain degree of awe at their capabilities as beaters. Weasley definitely had to have grown up playing Quidditch. It was in his blood. Next to the tall ginger however, was the person Edmund was really interested in; Harry Potter. It's not that he was not susceptible to the same awe over the boy who conquered the Dark Lord, rather he had never had the chance to examine the boy further until now, when he was standing across from him. The look of incredulity and awe Potter had on his face told Edmund all he needed to know about the boy. The rumors that he had been raised by Muggles were true. Surely a Harry Potter that had been raised by his own kind would have been much more confident in his abilities and at least exude a sense that he had actually touched a broom before.

Potter's school robes were standard issue, but he was incredibly thin and small looking. His face had filled out a bit since the first night when he saw him under the sorting hat. The Wizarding Savior had looked downright sickly then. Privately, Edmund wondered of the life the boy must have. If he had been raised by muggles, it would explain a lot about his demeanor. A Harry Potter raised in the wizarding world would have surely been another version of Draco Malfoy. The students at Hogwarts must be blessed that Potter seemed in fact, to be the complete opposite of the Slytherin Prince.

That did not mean he would be friends with Potter or anything. The boy practically smelled of Gryffindor, which was a stench that had begun to give him quite a bad taste from watching them misbehave in Potions.

When everyone had finally gotten their brooms somewhat under control, Madam Hooch began to start the lesson, but before she could even utter a complete phrase Longbottom had decided to show-off and set his broom off into the air, or at least that is what it initially looked like. It became clear that the Gryffindor had absolutely no control over his broomstick, and was much too nervous to listen to the flying instructor's directions. The entire class watched as Longbottom was pulled every which way by his broom as he flew higher and higher into the air. Finally, the broom collided with one of the walls surrounding the field and Longbottom fell to the ground in a quivering heap. Edmund noticed Malfoy sniggering with Vincent and Gregory, and saw Potter had noticed as well. The scrawny Gryffindor's jaw tightened before going to make sure his Housemate was alright.

Madam Hooch gingerly examined Longbottom before helping him to his feet. Still supporting him, she led him to the Hospital Wing. They all heard her admonishment that anyone seen on a broom before she arrived back would face expulsion. It was quite clear. It was also quite clear that anyone foolish enough to misbehave in the wide-open field, with windows surrounding it on all sides, would be seen by a Professor and that person would lose points for their House. That didn't seem to matter to his highness Draco Malfoy, however, as he picked up a Remembrall that must have belonged to Longbottom.

"Well, well look here at what Longbottom dropped," Malfoy teased, holing up the ball. "Maybe if he had this in his hand he would have remembered how to handle his broom!"

Many of the Slytherins, with the exception of Daphne and Edmund laughed at Malfoy's humor. Edmund had previously expressed his irritation that their fellow Slytherins bullying of the boy. For a House that prided blood purity, he felt as if Longbottom was a terrible target for their own enjoyment. He was one of them, after all.

Potter stepped towards Malfoy, his face a mask of loathing directed at the blonde. "Give it here, Malfoy," he snarled.

"Make, me Potter!"

Malfoy sidestepped Potter as the Gryffindor made an effort to lunge at him. Hopping onto his broom, he gave a smirk to the black-haired boy. "Or you'll just have to catch me up here!"

Potter didn't hesitate. Seizing his broom, he followed Malfoy into the air.

Much to his surprise, Potter was an excellent flyer. Malfoy must have thought so as well as he noticed a fleeting look of shock that was quickly covered up with his typical sneer. They couldn't hear what was being said by the two boys, but Potter, who appeared to have never flown before was doing an adept job at flying around Malfoy. In fact, he appeared to be a natural. _Only Sullivan flies that well_.

The girls gasped as Malfoy threw the Remembrall and Potter took off to catch it. It looked very much like the boy was going to crash straight into the castle walls before he broke in a tight turn and grabbed the ball in his hand.

It took everything he had not to cheer with the Gryffindor first-years as Potter descended and began jogging to rejoin the pitch, not because of the superior flying shown, but the look of disgust Malfoy wore at haven been bested. He couldn't believe the nerve his fellow Slytherin had. He could have easily been seen and while he was not particularly caring over whether Malfoy was expelled, he did not want to lose the points he had spent earning in classes that was beginning to earn him approving looks from the older students because Draco Malfoy was a stuck-up bully.

"Harry Potter!" The voice of Professor McGonagall pierced through the buzzing excitement and wiping the smiles off the faces of the Gryffindors. "Harry Potter," she called again. "Come with me, please."

As Potter followed Professor McGonagall back into the castle dejectedly, probably remembering Madam Hooch's warning, Edmund found it curious that Draco Malfoy was left crowing in the field. Surely the Deputy Headmistress would have taken him too if Potter was in trouble as well. Minerva McGonagall was nothing if not fair.

"He'll get what's coming to him," Malfoy sneered.

"Bug off, Malfoy," Edmund muttered, perhaps a little bit larger then he should have, as all the Gryffindors and Slytherins turned to face him.

"You have something to say to me, Fawley," Malfoy sneered at him.

Whether it was the crisp morning air or his own stupidity, Edmund would never be able to figure out why he opened his mouth in the first place, but he felt his confidence growing as he stepped up, so he and his housemate were nose to nose, resisting the pulls from Pansy and Daphne. "Just that maybe you should be the one expelled for letting Potter fly circles around you."

Malfoy's pale face pinked, he growled at Edmund. Perhaps getting ready to sock him in the face again before he was interrupted by Madam Hooch arriving from the Hospital Wing. "Something the matter, boys?" she asked tiredly.

"Nothing, Madam Hooch," Edmund beat Malfoy to the response as he stepped quickly away to face the Flying Instructor. "Draco was worried he had something on his nose."

A few of the Gryffindors, as well as Daphne, Tracey and Blaise sniggered as Malfoy fumed silently besides him. Madam Hooch, evidently too tired from the Longbottom debacle slowly nodded her head, even as it was quite obvious that she didn't believe him. "Alright… Where is Potter?" she looked around at the assembled students. Determined not to be beaten to the punch this time, Malfoy quickly spoke up.

"He was caught by Professor McGonagall, ma'am. While on a broomstick."

The flying instructor's eyes narrowed in surprise for a brief moment before merely sighing. "Very well. The lot of you. Back in a line. Say 'Up' and do not push off the ground."

The short remainder of the time they had left was spent barely hovering off the ground. Malfoy, intent on getting revenge on Edmund continued to shoot him evil looks, whereas the rest of the Slytherins besides Tracey and Daphne avoided looking at him at all. Draco was going to continue to be a problem, but Edmund was too annoyed to care. He didn't necessarily care that that the Malfoy scion was a bully and verbally abused the other students in other Houses, but his abuse of Longbottom did not sit well with him at all. Edmund agreed that Longbottom was an idiot, but he was also a Pureblood, and the heir of a very large and very wealthy family. The Longbottoms were members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and whilst being dumb, it was not enough to merit abuse from Malfoy. The Slytherins were supposed to put stock in all this stuff. He confided all this to Daphne as they made their way back to the castle after the lesson.

"Malfoy's father has a lot of our parents nervous," she told him as they entered the dungeons. "He is quite powerful in the Ministry."

"This is school. We are eleven," Edmund muttered in response, lowering his voice as they entered the common room. "Anyone who punishes parents because their kid gave theirs's an ego check is just pathetic."

"Yeah," his friend gave him a sympathetic smile. "But you going to do about it?"

"I don't know yet. But he needs to be put into his place."

"Then do something about it," she gave him a grin. "Put your Slytherin mind to work." Stopping by one of the worktables, she quickly changed the subject. "Do you want to work on Snape's essay tonight?"

"Of course," he muttered offhandedly, his mind working out how he could get back at his fellow Slytherin. "Library after dinner?"

"I'll see you there," Daphne sang as she turned into the girls' corridor to follow Tracey and the other girls.

Sitting down at one of the worktables, he racked his brain for a way to knock his housemate down a peg without getting caught. Professor Snape and the Prefects had made it clear that showing division outside of the House was frowned upon, and he did not want to continue testing that boundary and alienating himself from his house.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Edmund watched as Gemma Farley sat down in chair next to his. "Maybe if you'll actually give me the knut," he muttered cheekily.

The fifth-year chuckled for a moment as she flipped through a copy of _Teen Witch_. "Spill it, Fawley," she ordered. Her voice clear and attentive even as her eyes skimmed the magazine.

Sighing, he thought about what exactly to tell her. Gemma had been very helpful and had really taken him under her wing since the first day of classes. Since that day she had always checked in on him while he was working in the common room. Normally when no one else was around the two of them would talk, discussing anything from The Farley parent's occupation as bookkeepers in Knockturn Alley to Quidditch and wizarding magazines which the Prefect seemed to have a particular penchant for. He had found himself opening up to her more and more, telling her about Quidditch with Sullivan, to his first Professional match he went to with his Grandfather in Ballycastle, and the pressure he had felt when he was sorted into Slytherin. He knew she could be trusted, but she was also a Prefect, and he didn't want to compromise her position as one.

Gemma looked up from _Teen Witch_ in exasperation. "Merlin, out with it!"

Sighing inwardly, he told her what happened at the flying lessons from Longbottom's accident and his and Malfoy's faceoff. "And I don't know how to do it but I need to do something or I won't be able to survive seven years," he finished with another sigh.

Gemma merely nodded, silently flipping through the magazine. Had this not happened before, Edmund would have thought the girl was ignoring him, but he had seen her do it enough to know it was a stalling technique as she thought of what to say while not appearing to care. Finally, she slowly dog-eared the magazine and looked at him. "I think this is a situation where you have to wait for the right circumstances, Fawley."

"What?"

"Every situation has a certain set of circumstances that lead to and make up the situation. Take starting a fight for example like our lovely Gryffindors are so prone to do. The Ravenclaw insults a Gryffindor girl's intelligence. The girl runs back to her common room. A Gryffindor boy overhears here. Perhaps he even has a crush on her. He leaves to go find the Ravenclaw. These are all circumstances that lead to a specific situation. In this case, a fight. Slytherins learn to see the signs of those circumstances, and predict what will happen next. If you so wish, you can manipulate the circumstances to suit your need."

"So basically, you are telling me to wait?" he asked her. "How will I know when the circumstances line up? How long will that be."

Gemma fixed him with a long look. "Draco is easy, Fawley. If you cannot figure out how to manipulate circumstances he creates you do not belong in Slytherin.

Now if you please," she opened the magazine again and pointed at a pink bubble. "You made it into the beginning of the school year edition of _Teen Witch_."

With trepidation and a fair amount of alarm, he took a peek at the magazine before groaning. It was a picture of him flying with his older brother back at the pitch behind their house. "I don't want to read that, he muttered. _Teen Witch_ finds my siblings amazing which is great, but I haven't done anything to merit a story."

"You were born though," Gemma chuckled. "With that last name you will always be in the spotlight. As for your sister, she is dating the son of the President of MACUSA and is half the female population's idol. Your brother is a prodigious quidditch player and not to mention incredibly cute.

Think of it this way," she said smugly. "People may always know everything about you, but no one will treat you like they treat Harry Potter."

Edmund had seen the looks Potter received in the halls. People were in awe of him and would whisper as he walked by. He didn't think Potter noticed it, but it happened. Even Daphne and Tracey had been caught up in a conversation about him. Truth be told, he felt sorry for the Boy-Who-Lived. His parents were still alive, and while he may never get a bit of privacy, he had a loving family. _At least before I was sorted into Slytherin…_

Sighing, he pulled the magazine over to him and began reading. He winced at the headline, "Third Fawley Shocks All By Showing Badboy Streak Upon Arrival At Hogwarts."

"I'm eleven," he muttered angrily, shoving the magazine away. "I can't be a 'bad boy' yet and they are just calling me that because I was sorted into Slytherin."

"If you don't read it yourself I will read it for you," Gemma retorted sharply, thrusting the offending magazine back into his hands. "Out loud."

Properly chagrined of the idea that someone like Malfoy would overhear, he grabbed the magazine and began to skim it. Luckily it was only a blurb and not a full profile. "Mother would kill me if she knew I read this," he muttered as he came across a quote wondering in what other ways he was different from his family. "Just because I am in Slytherin doesn't mean anything in the long run."

"Maybe not. But if you want my advice, play it up. In a few years it'll serve you well."

"Yeah whatever," he groaned. Suddenly, with alarm he sat up. "Who else gets that magazine?"

Gemma shot a wicked grin at him. "You can bet your friends Daphne and Tracey will get a copy by breakfast tomorrow if not sooner."

Groaning, Edmund got up from the chair. "I'm hungry. You coming to dinner?"

"Such a gentleman," she said sarcastically, with a flick of her hair. "I'll walk with you, but I have to go run an errand before dinner."

"An errand with a certain Ravenclaw Prefect?" he asked cheekily as the two of them made their way out of the common room.

"Aren't you a little young, Mr. 'I'm only eleven'?" she asked him with an arched eyebrow.

"Maybe. Maybe not," he said smugly as the two made their way to the Great Hall in companionable silence. As they walked up through he dungeons, his thoughts returned to what Gemma had said about the right moment. Luckily for him, that moment came during dinner.

"Looks like Potter was alright after all," Daphne nudged him. Looking up, he saw the Gryffindor sitting down with the red-haired boy, Weasley. The two seemed to be whispering quietly with each other.

"I wonder what McGonagall said to him," wondered Helen, whose nose was still slightly too large but gradually shrinking.

"Well we will probably find out soon," Blaise, who had been spending more time around them, interjected. "Draco is going to have a little chat with him."

Sure enough, Malfoy, Vincent and Greg all were approaching where Potter sat at the Gryffindor table. The other first-year Slytherins had apparently lost interest but Edmund kept his eye across the hall. He wasn't the only one, as he noticed Professor McGonagall watching them from the Head Table as well. Eventually the three Slytherins made their way back to the Slytherin table, but instead of the boastful bravado he had shown for the past two weeks, Malfoy instead whispered quietly and excitedly to his henchmen, who giggled uncertainly. _He probably said something over their heads_.

Malfoy raised his voice to a more normal volume as he reached the table and the trio sat down between Blaise and Pansy, the latter looking none too happy to be sitting next to Greg. "So, I challenged him, and he bought it all up," he was saying to Theo Nott and Blaise. "Weasley even offered to be his second."

 _Second_ , Edmund thought to himself. The only times one would need a second was to be in a Wizard's duel, and even that was rare. Malfoy didn't have the guts to outright duel Potter on equal footing. There was no way. Pretending to act disinterested, he strained to hear what else Malfoy was saying.

"Of course I'm not going to actually meet him," Malfoy was saying to Blaise. "He and Weasley will get caught and they'll be on the train home by morning."

At this the wheels in Edmund's head began spinning. Malfoy was setting a trap for Potter. Which meant the boy was going to tip someone off. The boy had practically dug his own grave. His plan relied on Potter not realizing it was a trap. Malfoy would probably tell Filch and Filch would be none too happy when Potter did not show up in the Trophy Room.

"Hey," he poked Daphne in the ribs.

"Ow, what's the deal Edmund?" she asked.

"I have something to take care of. Want to meet me in the library when you are done?"

Getting up as Daphne nodded her head and turned back to Tracey, Edmund did his best to walk casually out of the Great Hall. Potter and Weasley had gotten up at the same time, followed by Granger. The Gryffindors were closer to the door and he thanked God that the timing had worked out perfectly so that the exits did not look suspicious.

Leaving the Great Hall and with no one else in sight, he ran up the stairs towards where he was sure the Gryffindor common room was situated. After getting to the first floor, he saw the three Gryffindors, who seemed to be arguing about something. Steeling himself, he walked towards them, as they were now stopped where just anyone could hear them. _Fools…_

"Potter," he called out. The three turned to look at him. Granger gave a squeak of surprise while Potter and Weasley did an astonishing transformation between confused and distrustful of the green and silver patch on his robe.

"What do you want?" Ron Weasley asked, rather rudely in Edmund's opinion. "We are busy here."

Choosing to ignore the red headed boy, Edmund gave a stiff bow and held out his hand towards the black-haired Gryffindor. "I don't believe we have been introduced. Edmund Fawley."

Warily, the boy took his hand. "Harry Potter."

"I know about your duel with Malfoy in the Trophy Room. He's setting you up."

Granger turned to her two housemates with a triumphant look. "I told you that you shouldn't go tonight," she said in an annoyingly bossy voice that made him cringe inwardly. "You'll just be caught."

"Why should we believe you," Potter asked him, ignoring Weasley's snort, probably balking at the idea of trusting Slytherins. "You could just be getting us in trouble."

"No, I can't, Potter, don't be daft. If you are safe in your common room you can't get into trouble.

Plus," he took advantage of the two boys bewildered expressions. "After this I am going to Professor McGonagall to let her know that I heard some older students would be dueling in the trophy room tonight. So, if you go, you get caught. If you don't go but Malfoy actually does go, he will get caught."

It was what he said last that finally gave Potter to give in. "Alright," he said slowly. "Why do you want to get Malfoy? He's your housemate."

"He's a bit much for my taste," Edmund sniffed disdainfully. "He needs to be knocked down a peg and while I still don't believe he will show up, I'd love to see what happens when Mr. Filch catches him tomorrow after being lied to."

Potter nodded slowly, although Edmund could tell the two boys still didn't understand.

"Brilliant," he gave the three Gryffindors a cool smile that Gemma had told him was good to exude superiority. "Have a good night."

Walking away, he didn't waste another glance back, but something told him they were still watching him. _Probably don't know what to make of a Slytherin ratting on Draco Malfoy_ , he thought to himself as he walked down the stairs towards the Transfiguration Wing.

* * *

"Hey," Daphne gave him a shy smile as he entered the library. "What took you so long?"

Edmund smirked as he sat down opposite her and pulled out his Potions Textbook. "Oh nothing," he chuckled. "Have you gotten anything done?"

Daphne turned a light pink as she giggled uncontrollably. "No, I was doing some light reading," she continued to laugh.

His friend must have seen the confusion itched on his face that quickly turned into one of horror when she pulled out a copy of _Teen Witch,_ because the gleeful look she gave him was enough to tell him everything he needed to know. "Why didn't you tell me you are set on becoming one of Hogwarts' Top Desirables?"

Groaning and cursing every tabloid he could think of, as well as his family's fame, Edmund did his best to ignore Daphne rattling on about how funny she thought the story was, and get his potions essay done.

* * *

 **A/N: Alrighty so there ends chapter 5. Let me know what you all think. I appreciated the reviews and support so far. It does mean a lot. From here on out, Year 1 will probably move a lot quicker now that we have laid the necessary foundations and Harry and Edmund have made first contact so to speak. Working on the next chapter now.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A Tale of Rivals, by elk99**

 **A/N:** _My apologies for the delay in posting. It is finals season and I'm preparing for a move so things have been hectic. Either way I think the wait was worth it, although calling me biased is a fair accusation. I really am trying to speed things up now so I apologize if there are parts that seem slow. Right now I am thinking that we will have one chapter for the Christmas Holidays and then one more after that to conclude the first year but I'm not totally sure yet. Three chapters at the most, for year one. Also, anything recognizable? It belongs to Madam Rowling._

* * *

The next morning at breakfast saw Draco Malfoy absent from the Slytherin table. Edmund had heard him come in incredibly late the prior night, and according to one of the older students, he had been led into the Common Room by Filch, and more or less shoved into the boys' dormitory. The rumor mill had already been working its magic as all the prefects and some of the older students seemed to be aware of what happened, or a version of it at the very least. Many exaggerated ponderings had swept through the Slytherin table and some had even trickled over to the Ravenclaws, igniting a new set of tales that spread through the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors like wildfire. No matter that many of them were too much to be true, Edmund was glad to see that Malfoy had finally gotten the attention he claimed to deserve.

From what he had heard from Gemma, Filch had caught Malfoy in the halls, where the boy made up a story about students dueling in the Trophy Room. Filch had waited near the Trophy Room almost half the night before yelling at the boy for wasting his time with excuses. He took him to Professor McGonagall who was on watch that evening, and the stern Deputy Headmistress had knocked off fifty points from the Slytherin for being out after curfew, and another twenty points for lying and attempting to frame another student. Less than two weeks into school and Slytherin was last in the competition for the House Cup. Seventy points down. Edmund was almost regretful that he played a part in it, but the way the House had turned on Malfoy was priceless. Pansy no longer ogled him, the older students had stopped putting up with his pomp, and even Professor Snape seemed to be less friendly towards his favorite student.

The night Edmund had gone to find Professor McGonagall, he instead ran into an angry Filch mopping the floor. Seeing an opportunity and having heard how the cantankerous caretaker was prone to snapping at students, he adopted a very timid approach.

"Mi- Mi- Mister Filch, sir?" he had asked, nervously shuffling from foot to foot. The nervousness had not been fake. He was petrified the man would see through the lie he was about to tell.

Filch had stopped mopping and looked at Edmund blearily. "What do you want, lad?" he grunted.

"Please, sir. I'm worried but if I say anything they'll be mean," he lowered his head to the ground in shame, but mostly because he couldn't let his face give everything away. "I'm not a snitch you see, sir."

He could tell he had the man hooked. The mop clattered to the floor as Filch grew closer. "Come on, lad," the old man crooned in what he must have thought was a parental voice, but came across more as creepy. "I won't tell a soul."

It took all Edmund had to not cringe as Filch got closer. "It's Draco, sir. He is going to the third floor tonight. He told us he'd distract you by saying Gryffindors were dueling in the Trophy Room."

Hook, line, and sinker. Filch had lapped up the entire story much akin to a puppy and a plate of bacon before excitedly running off, Mrs. Norris in tow. It was apparent that the plan had worked perfectly. Filch didn't believe Malfoy's claims about the Trophy Room, and had been most severe towards the boy. Professor McGonagall could not have taken favorably to him placing blame on students from her house, either.

After that, the next couple weeks went by quickly for Edmund. His classes were going well, and he was itching to get started on actual spell casting. Professor Flitwick, who had easily become his favorite teacher, hinted at a possibility of practicing levitation charms in late October. Potions was as good as it could be really, but luckily for him Professor Snape was too focused on Potter and the rest of the Gryffindors' antics to really care about the Slytherins. He often worked with Pansy in Potions. Daphne sat with Tracey and Malfoy forced Vincent to sit with him in the back of the room. Potter was also very respectful to him. The fact that Malfoy was much quieter now hadn't ended the age-old rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin and the two sides even exchanged a few barbs without Malfoy initiating anything. Potter on the other hand, never said anything. Edmund privately thought that he was saving himself for when everyone else in Slytherin stopped being mad at the Malfoy scion.

He tried out for the Slytherin Quidditch team as well, although the Captain, Flint's style was not really his taste. He was very interested in the sport, but it was evident that the burly team captain placed an emphasis on bigger and more burly players. Pucey and the seeker, Terrence Higgs were the only two of the seven players on the all-male team that didn't look like a troll. Flint had apparently been impressed with his performance anyway, and he was placed on the reserves, meaning he had to play with the team once a week, which wasn't a bad sacrifice if he really thought about it, if his brother could see him in the green robes.

Between talking to Adrian and Theodore and talking to some of the other guys on the team, and studying with Daphne and Tracey, Edmund's social calendar had filled up. With Malfoy silenced, at least temporarily, people were nicer and had been more accepting of the first-year who was quickly becoming the point breadwinner of the lower years. They were still in last place, but Flint had mentioned in the Common Room that they'd be back in the running after the first Quidditch match. Edmund hoped he was right. He had decided to fully embrace the Slytherin within him, and once he did that, he found, he was generally more content and less bitter about his situation.

Part of his new attitude had to have come from Gemma. The two still talked every morning before breakfast, waking up long before everyone else. Gemma was in her OWL (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) year and used the mornings to polish any work she had for that day. The two of them meeting at the study table near the fireplace each morning had become an established part of his day that Edmund looked forward to every morning. It was at one of these, in later October when Edmund walked out of the dormitories after a horrible nights sleep. The dungeons seemed to be twice as cold now that the winter seemed to be encroaching a bit early in the Scottish Highlands.

"Late for you," Gemma observed without looking up. "How fast that work ethic disappears."

"Bugger it," Edmund mumbled grumpily as he sat down across from her. "It's too cold in these dungeons. I can't be expected to leave my bed in the frigidity."

Gemma looked up in surprise. "That reminds me I should show you a warming charm that a lot of the older students use this time of year."

"You use a warming charm?"

"Do you expect me not to?"

Not knowing how to answer that retort, he sighed in resignation. "Just show me how to do it then?" he asked hopefully.

"Stand up and come here," she sighed, taking a break from what looked to be a Potions Essay for Professor Snape. She demonstrated the wand motion and mentioned the incantation a few times before she let him try on his own. The first try nothing happened, but on the second try a sudden warmth blossomed in his chest eventually settling down to a comfortable level.

"Thank you," he practically moaned as he felt far more comfortable.

"Think nothing of it," Gemma chuckled, waving him to the opposite seat as she turned back towards her work. "Don't forget to mention it to your friends, or at least your girlfriend."

Feeling a faint blush begin to creep up his neck, Edmund barely managed to croak out a "What?" as he dropped the text he had dropped from Gemma's statement. As he lifted his head above the table, with the offending text in hand, he was met with the girl's teasing Cheshire grin.

"You know who I'm talking about Fawley. Greengrass?"

"Daphne and I are just friends," he stammered as his face grew hotter.

"Whatever you say," Gemma smiled, returning to her essay.

Edmund took the silence to sort out his thoughts. He had never viewed Daphne as someone other than his friend in Slytherin House and a natural ally against the Malfoy crew. Could it be that his friend felt something more for him? He wasn't sure he was ready to find out, and either way, he decided it wasn't important enough. Professor Flitwick had announced that the first years would begin casting the levitation charm in class today as a Halloween Treat, and having heard about the feast many times from his siblings, he was determined to have as little work to do as possible. Pulling out the _Standard Book of Spells_ , he flipped to the page on levitation, and began practicing the wand movements. "Wingardium Leviosa," he muttered quietly, with a flick of his wand.

* * *

Edmund was riding a high as he sat laughing with Adrian Pucey, Theo Nott and a few other boys at the Halloween Feast later that evening. Theo was telling the table about a scene in the second years potions class when Professor Snape berated a Gryffindor, Katie Bell, for spilling her smelling drought all across his robes. Looking up at the High Table, Edmund saw that the Potions Master seemed to be flashing extra glares towards the Gryffindor table today, and Professor Sprout definitely appeared to be leaning away from his direction. "Looks like Bell's potion was worth an 'O' at least," he chuckled, gesturing towards the High Table after Theo finished talking.

Earlier in the day, Edmund had been the first one to get the levitation charm correct, sending his feather circling Ernie Macmillan's head, much to the Hufflepuff's annoyance. Professor Flitwick had been absolutely delighted and awarded him twenty points, telling him privately after class that he had a real natural aptitude for Charms. He had ended up spending the time before dinner in the Common Room helping Helen Runcorn and Millicent Bulstrode with the spell, although an exasperated Henry Keating had eventually marched over and told him off before giving back the inkpot Millicent had accidently sent to his head.

He had stayed away from Daphne and Tracey for the majority of the day, even at the feast selecting to sit with Adrian's friends. Tracey hadn't paid it much kind, but Daphne shot him a quizzical look which he avoided, immersing himself in Quidditch talk to not think about Gemma's prior insinuations. He just needed some space to prove that he and Daphne did not like each other like that. He didn't want to deal with teasing from his housemates, and especially didn't want his siblings finding out. Madam Fawley would certainly have something to say about it.

Edmund was helping himself to a second helping of Yorkshire Pudding when the double doors of the Great Hall burst open, with a raving Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor who looked like he had seen his first dark creature. "Troll! Troll in the dungeons!" the man squealed before collapsing right in front of Professor Dumbledore.

"Our brave and experienced champion against the Dark Arts," Edmund muttered snidely just as everyone else began screaming and yelling in hysterics. The whole hall had erupted in a mass of confusion. One Ravenclaw had even ran towards the door before a a loud bang went off. Looking towards the High Table, where the sound came from, Professor Dumbledore was holding his wand up in the air.

"Prefects will lead their houses back to their common room," his gaze swept over the hall. "Staff will accompany me to the dungeons." Without another word, the Headmaster left the hall through a door behind his chair, flanked by Professor Sprout and Flitwick, while Professor Snape went out a door on the left side of the hall. Professor McGonagall took a few moments to speak to Merry before following the staff through the door behind the Headmaster's chair. Meanwhile, the Slytherins were standing unsurely about the table as the other Houses filed out of the hall in orderly lines. Near, the end of the table, Edmund was able to overhear the argument the Slytherin Prefects were having.

"The man's gone daft."

"What's he playing at sending us down there?"

"We're following the staff we will be fine."

"It's a troll, Yaxley, not a Cornish Pixie."

With a start Edmund realized what the Prefects and the other older students were muttering about. Dumbledore had sent them back to their common room. In the _dungeon_. Where the _troll_ was. Shaking his head at the Headmaster's foolishness, he went over to Daphne and Tracey, the former looking in severe need of reassurance.

"Hey," he grinned as he put his arms around her shoulder. "No one told me they put on a show for Halloween too."

Daphne gave him a wan smile before turning her attention back to the prefects, who were now being approached by Meredith Fawley. Edmund watched as his sister talked to one of the Slytherin Seventh Year Prefects, Cain Wesley. After a few moments, Wesley turned away and returned to the Slytherin table. Meredith caught Edmund's eye before leaving the Great Hall, and merely raised an eyebrow. Blushing furiously, he realized his arm was still around Daphne. Carefully removing it, he turned to Cain Wesley, who was now talking to the rest of the House.

"The Head Girl has informed me that we are to stay here, rather then face the beast," he said snidely, in reference to the Headmaster's comments at dinner. "Sit down and make yourselves comfortable."

* * *

It wasn't for another two hours before a very cross and limping Professor Snape entered the Great Hall and ordered the Slytherins to the dungeons. Whatever had happened with the troll had made put the Potions Master in an incredibly bad mood that was normally reserved for Gryffindors such as Weasley and Longbottom. The Slytherins all filed down to their Common Room where they found a table filled with desserts to make up for their cut-short meal. Edmund readily joined the others in piling up tartes and cakes to feast on before bed. Malfoy had gone up to the dormitory before anyone else, and Edmund, Daphne, and Tracey privately suspected that their year-mate hadn't handled the troll announcement with as much dignity as he would care to admit.

The next day, the rumor mill was in full swing, and apparently Potter and Weasley had fought off a troll, saving the life of Gryffindor's bookworm, Hermione Granger. Professor McGonnaggall saw fit to bestow upon Potter and Weasley House points, while only taking a few from Granger. Professor Snape was extra nice to the Slytherins for a week after that, which Edmund found entirely justified by the Transfiguration Mistresses unusual display of favoritism. It has finally reached the Slytherins that the Deputy Head had also gotten the Gryffindor a Nimbus 2000 racing broom, against the school rules, so that he could play on the House Quidditch Team. Marcus Flint was enraged that his Gryffindor counterpart, Oliver Wood had managed to bend the rules, and the Slytherin Captain took it out on his players, including the reserve players.

November passed by quickly, and only having to attend one practice a week allowed Edmund to spend more time studying and talking with his friends. Gemma's comment about Daphne had been all but forgotten after the events of Halloween, and if anything, the two had grown closer, resulting in an invitation to New Years at the Greengrass home over break. Edmund had quickly written to his mother, who sent back an owl that they would expect to meet the Greengrass parents at Kings Cross upon his return to London.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Daphne had told him when she learned of his parent's stipulations. "My father would much prefer it that way as well."

The first Quidditch match of the season was met with anticipation, as Slytherin faced off against Gryffindor. According to Adrian, the Slytherin Chasers were far better than Gryffindor's, but that Oliver Wood would probably go on to play for England someday and his Keeping skills were spectacular.

The other factor was Harry Potter, and as Wood had done his best to keep the youngest seeker in a century under wraps, Flint had little information on the Gryffindor first-year's skill on a broom. Flint frequently called into doubt how good Potter actually was on a broom, but Terrence Higgs, the Slytherin seeker who had heard the stories about the first years' flying lesson was growing more and more nervous.

When the day of the match did arrive, Edmund sat with Daphne and Theodore Nott. Tracey, who somehow wasn't interested in Quidditch decided to stay back at the castle. The match was quite good, and Edmund discovered that Potter's placement on the team may have been justified. He outflew every player in the air and he was only a first year. The only oddity was when the Gryffindor seeker couldn't keep control of his broom. Surely a player who flew as well as Potter wouldn't simply throw skill out the window.

The Slytherins lost that match, and despite Flint's vocal protests that catching the snitch in one's mouth was not allowed, Edmund had a sneaking suspicion that it didn't matter, and he joined the other Slytherins in skulking back to their Common Room. Potter has definitely been an unexpected anomaly for the Slytherin Quidditch team's plans, and he briefly wondered how the Hufflepuff team would prepare for it. They had widely been considered, according to his siblings, to be the favorites for this year's Quidditch Cup. Neither of them had expected Harry Potter, however.

Declining to waste much time thinking about his older brother's problems, Edmund ended up joining Tracey, Helen, and Blaise in the library to work on his homework. There would be plenty of time to solve problems with his brother over the Christmas Holiday.

* * *

"Let's see," Tracey began as she read from a list. "Greatest witch in British History; Morgana, or Maeve?"

"Maeve."

"Morgana."

Edmund and Daphne looked at each other in shock. They were in a compartment on the Hogwart's Express with Blaise, Tracey, and Helen, all heading back home for the Christmas Holidays. Edmund didn't know exactly when Blaise started hanging out with them, but at some point the dark skinned boy had become friends with Helen, and eventually had been accepted into their group.

"Morgana?" he asked Daphne incredulously. "What are you mad?"

"Morgana almost ruled all of England at one time," she replied haughtily. "Maeve was a teacher."

"Maeve was the greatest educator in wizarding history," Edmund exclaimed, perhaps a bit defensively. "Her teachings influenced the founders…"

"You just like her because she's Irish," Daphne sighed airily. "Plus Morgana is just cool."

Edmund bit back a retort. He could of course tell Daphne why Maeve was the greatest witch in not only British, but European History, but to do so would reveal perhaps a bit too much. "What does the book say?" he turned to Tracey, who smiled slightly at her two friends' behavior.

"Well, Walter Algernon agrees with you, Edmund. He writes that Maeve and her descendants made for some of the greatest educators not just in Britain, but in the world. He was also a Hogwarts Headmaster though, and hired Dumbledore, so he may be a bit biased."

Turning to Daphne, she continued. "Morgana is backed by Wallamby Burke, who asserts that Maeve is a safe option often picked by public officials who fear Morgana's label as a 'dark' witch."

"So basically," Daphne turned to Edmund. "Morgana is the greatest witch, people choose Maeve because they are afraid of other people's opinions."

"Whatever," Edmund sighed. "Let's hear the next pairing."

"Alright, Helen and Blaise," Tracey turned to the other two. "The most destructive magical creature; Dementors, or a Basilisk?"

As Helen and Blaise began debating the finer points of the likelihood of a basilisk attack in the modern world, Daphne turned to Edmund. "I explained to my parents the procedure. It's your parents and grandfather, yes?"

"I don't know about Grandfather Fawley but yes there is a chance he will be there," Edmund confirmed. "And Cedric Diggory and his father may be around as well, but they are of no consequence."

"Brilliant," Daphne gave a brief nod. "There should be no problems then.

The Wizarding World may have advanced far beyond the times or Walter Algernon and Walamby Burke, Edmund thought, as they listened to Tracey explaining why the latter believed a Basilisk to be deadlier then a dementor, but the upper echelons of Pureblood society had not. Coming from two prestigious families who were unintroduced, the responsibility of introducing their fathers lay with the two of them. Edmund's being the senior family, would be approached by the Greengrass clan and protocol would ensue.

Truth be told, he wasn't that worried about the introductions. He was fully confident in his capabilities as a Pureblood gentleman and knew Daphne's family, which placed an even higher emphasis on blood than his did, would have made sure their daughter knew every little in and out of protocols.

As the train reached Kings Cross, Edmund and Blaise took down everyone's trunk as Tracey hastily put away the book, _Warren and Burke: Debates Of A Magical Society_. Once off the train, the group said their goodbyes. Not having talked to Helen like the others did, he made short work of saying goodbye, and Blaise being one of few words simply nodded at him. After promising Tracey he would write to her and see her at the Greengrass home on New Year's, Edmund and Daphne approached a couple he assumed were Daphne's parents. A girl perhaps one or two years younger then Edmund was holding her mother's hand. That would be Astoria, Daphne's younger sister.

"Mum!" his friend rushed into her mother's arms. She may have only been 12, but Daphne Greengrass was a spitting image of her mother. They both wore their long blond hair in a similar fashion, just a bit longer then their shoulders, and had piercing ice-blue eyes. After a hug to her father and sister, Daphne straightened out and gestured to Edmund. "Mother, Father, may I present to you one of my Housemates, Edmund Fawley. Edmund, my parents, Michael and Aurora Greengrass."

The ball was in Edmund's court. Without a moment of hesitation, he made a tight dip of his head towards Mr. Greengrass before holding out his hand. "My Lord Greengrass, it is an honor to make your acquaintance."

Michael Greengrass was a big man, and had Edmund not been raised with men who wielded just as much power, he would have been afraid. Instead he met the mans eyes head on, and held eye contact until his handshake was met. "Young Master Fawley," he began in a deep baritone. "The honor is indeed mine."

Receiving a nod of approval from Daphne, Edmund turned to her mother. Greeting women was always more complicated for purebloods, but Edmund already knew that had he turned out a squib, he could have made an excellent living as a dramatist in the muggle world. "And Madam Greengrass, the honor of making your acquaintance is mine alone," he said with a flourish, planting a light kiss on Madam Greengrass' ring.

"You are well received, Master Fawley," she smiled at him. "And now that you have seen proper of the formalities, I insist you call me Mrs. Greengrass."

"Thank you, ma'am. My parents are looking forward to meeting you." Looking around he saw his family watching them. His parents and grandfather were standing by the barrier to Muggle London. They were flanked by Sullivan and Merry, the former looking on with a sour expression. Edmund was excited to see his grandfather. The Fawley Patriarch had taught Edmund the pureblood etiquette, and now he would be able to see him use what he learned.

As they grew closer, Edmund briefly rehearsed what he had to do. The Fawley family may have been progressively minded when it came to politics, but his grandfather still practiced the old ways. He had told Daphne of this and she had subsequently informed her parents a few weeks ago. "Mother, Father," he kissed both of his mother's cheeks and gave his father a firm handshake. Finally, bowing over his grandfather's hand, he kissed the Fawley and Roscommon rings worn on Simon Fawley's hand. "It is a pleasure to see you, My Lord Fawley."

"The pleasure is ours, young Master," Edmund's grandfather responded as expected. "You have brought guests."

It was not a question or an observation on his grandfather's part, but an invitation for Edmund to introduce Daphne and her family. Taking a step back, he gestured to the Greengrasses. "Father, Mother, Milord, may I present to you, my housemate and year-mate, Daphne Iliana Greengrass, her sister, Astoria, and their parents, Michael Greengrass and Aurora Greengrass. Lord and Madam Greengrass, Daphne, my parents, Ned and Elodie, and my grandfather, Simon Fawley."

He watched as the Greengrass parents greeted his family in the traditional manner. His grandfather evidently approved, as he let Daphne kiss the two signet rings on his hand, a sign usually reserved for close friends to the family. A part from the gesture, which did not go unnoticed by the Greengrasses or his parents, Simon Fawley remained silent, allowing Edmund's parents to talk with the Greengrasses. Edmund and Daphne watched nervously as their parents conversed with each other. While Mr. Greengrass discussed Ministry news with Ned Fawley, Edmund's mother drew Merry into her conversation with Mrs. Greengrass.

"Of course we would simply be delighted if you were to join us as we welcome in the New Year," Mrs. Greengrass was saying to Meredith and Madam Fawley.

"We must decline, I'm afraid, as we will be visiting my brother in Scotland," his mother responded. "Yet Edmund has made his wishes to attend quite clear and although he writes to us very little, my eldest has informed me that your daughter has been an excellent friend. If you will take him, I have no objections."

Edmund blushed at this, shooting his sister a death glare as Daphne's mother gave his their floo address. Not one to be intimidated by his looks, Merry merely smiled before jumping into the conversation. "My parents typically spend the Winter Solstice at the Irish Council's Gala in Limerick, Mrs. Greengrass. There are usually a few other kids that stay at our House that evening and I'm sure Edmund would love to have Daphne visit."

"Oh, most definitely," Madam Fawley nodded emphatically. "She would be more than welcome."

"Well, I don't know..." Mrs. Greengrass began.

"Please, mum," Daphne asked. "You and dad always have business associates over that night and it is so terribly boring."

"Daphne!" her mother chided. "Very well that shouldn't be a problem. Four days from today?"

"Yes," Madam Fawley nodded. "Our address is The Promenade-On-Finn. It's a public floo address so there are no warding issues. Dear," she turned to her husband, who stopped his conversation with Mr. Greengrass. "Miss Greengrass will be coming for the Solstice."

Merely nodding his head, Ned Fawley looked back to Mr. Greengrass. "It was a pleasure, Michael." A scattering of handshakes ensued, and the Fawleys waited for the Greengrass family to leave through the barrier. The platform had cleared considerably since the train had arrived, but some families were still chatting and catching up. With the Greengrass family gone, Edmund shed a some of the formality and gave both his parents and grandfather a hug.

"It's good to see you dear," his mother smiled warmly at him. "How was your term?"

Edmund noticed both his father and grandfather's deep hazel eyes boring into him. This was the first time, he realized, he had seen them or talked to them since he had been sorted into Slytherin. "Term went well, mum."

"Any problems?" his father asked. Ned Fawley was an average sized man, with few defining features. He had, like his sons, a shock of brown almost mahogany-like hair with deep hazel eyes and a somewhat drawn face. What he lacked in physical uniqueness, he made up for with a confidence that practically radiated power. Edmund's biggest fear had been writing to his father about being sorted into Slytherin and had ended up not sending him one. In turn, he had not received one from his dad either.

"None that weren't expected," he sighed. "And none that haven't, to an extent, been handled."

Ned Fawley continued to gaze at him for a moment. Edmund could see Sullivan shifting to and fro impatiently out of the corner of his eye. "I would like to apologize to you," he finally told him. "I admit that I was caught off guard by your sorting, but you are still my son, and you are still a member of this House."

Edmund merely nodded, but inside, he felt as if a huge weight he didn't know he was still carrying ha been lifted from his shoulders. His father's comment opened a floodgate of emotions and before he knew it, the careful resolve he had built cracked, and he found himself in his father's arms. A solid minute went by before he broke away. "Thank you," he whispered. "It means a great deal."

Ned Fawley looked at his youngest. Edmund had always been the reserved one of the Fawley siblings. It had been years since he hugged his father in front of his brother, sister, and grandfather, much less in public. "Let's be on our way," Ned said, holding out a hand to his wife as they listened to Meredith talk about everything going on at Hogwarts this year. His grandfather lagged behind a bit, allowing Sullivan to go ahead so it was just the two of them walking behind the others. "We are proud of how you have dealt with this," he said nonchalantly. "It requires perseverance to make do in an unexpected situation. Your handling of it alone is admirable."

Edmund didn't respond, and he knew his grandfather would not be needing one. As they walked through the barrier into Muggle London together, Edmund couldn't help but feel relieved that this break was already turning out to be better than anticipated.

* * *

 **A/N:** _So there is the conclusion of that chapter. Please read and review to let me know your thoughts. I appreciate and have noted the reviews so far and they really are helpful, so thank you. As I mentioned above, I really want first year to go by pretty quickly. The next chapter will be the winter holidays and after that should be back to school._


	7. Chapter 7

**A Tale of Rivals, by elk99**

 **A/N:** _So the winter holidays took longer to write than I imagined, and I am splitting them into two chapters. I am still planning on making the first three years at Hogwarts go by fairly quickly, but I do think it is necessary to drag certain elements out to lay a foundation we would not have gotten from Harry's more muggle based perspective. Please enjoy this chapter, and remember that anything recognizable belongs to Madam Rowling._

* * *

The Holidays at Promenade-On-Finn had always been enjoyable. The atrium of the large manor was decked with holly and gold streamers replaced the usual red and black banners of the Fawley Family. A gigantic Christmas tree stood tall at one end of the chamber, visible and daunting from every corner of the room. The wide marble staircases that snaked from the second-floor balcony overlooking the atrium were finished with a large red and green ribbons, and fairies with mistletoe had free rein and dodging them became a game when the Fawley siblings had been younger. The West Parlor, where Edmund's parents and grandfather received guests was more modest, yet still aesthetically decorated, thin lines of thistle with twinkling fairy dust sparked throughout it lining the window frames. The East Parlor on the other hand, showed the other side of the family, the one that most wizards had forsaken after the Middle Ages.

The East Parlor was devoid of the traditional holly and thistle that adorned the rest of the manor. Instead a large ornate crucifix was planted on the wall above the fireplace, looking over the room. Opposite were portraits of past Fawley men and women who had entered the Holy Service. A portrait of the Hogwarts' Fat Friar was one of the most prominent, hanging opposite the crucifix and slumbering peacefully. There had been very few times, none to Edmund's recollection, that the Fat Friar had ever interacted with the family in the room. When he was awake there would be smiles and jovial winks, but no word had ever been spoken. Edmund had been staring at the portrait for several minutes before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Mum wanted me to tell you supper is ready," Merry said softly, briefly smiling as she looked at the portrait of the Hufflepuff ghost who their grandfather continued to insist was an ancestor.

Edmund turned to his older sister. She had changed, like he had, as soon as they had returned. Edmund's room was exactly as he had left it, with a poster of the Ballycastle Bats, but instead of the pale gold drapes that had previously hung from his windows, his mother had replaced with a deep forest green. The dark mahogany wood along the head board had been changed as well, the miniature badgers that used to play along the wall now replaced with a coiled serpent. He had been grateful for his mother changing the scheme. Seeing the badgers and Hufflepuff symbols in his room would have hit him hard, and brought up feelings he had learned to repress through the term. He had quickly changed out of his muggle clothes and put on one of his robes, a smoky black one with green and silver swirls. He had gotten it last year from Madam Bones and had never worn it. What better time to try it out then the return dinner he had mused as he got dressed. Hoping to send a message to his family, testing to see if they were really alright or if other thoughts were being hidden.

With a small jolt, he realized he had delayed far too long in answering Merry. "Let's go then."

He let her lead him to the dining room. The truth was, despite his father's words, he was still nervous. He had changed a lot over the term. He had different friends, and he hadn't spoken to Sullivan since the first day of classes. He knew by the end of dinner, he would have had to talk to his older brother, but there was no guarantee on how that would go.

He followed Merry into the dining room, where twinkling fairy lights danced over across the room, creating a calming ambiance. His father already was seated at the head of the table, the large black and red banner bearing the Fawley crest; an outline of a white tower on fire, overlooking a churning ocean. Fire and water, red and black, a tower that stood tall amongst the chaos. Edmund had always been fascinated by the family crest. _Tranquillus colloeandus tumult._

Sullivan walked in behind him, and he had to move to make way for his brother as the older boy sat in his usual spot at his father's left side. Merry sat down next to him while Edmund took the seat across from her and next to his mother, who sat opposite his father at the end of the table. "Now we just need, your grandfather," Madam Fawley said, looking a bit worried.

"I'm here, I'm here, Elodie," Simon Fawley entered the room and sat down next to Edmund. "You really shouldn't worry like you do, I'm hardly Dumbledore's age."

"Apologies, Simon," she chuckled. "Worrow. Dinner please."

The meal Worrow had prepared for the Fawley siblings return home was scrumptious, with a large roast and salad, and potatoes. Everything was excellent, and Edmund lost himself in the food for a time, idly listening as Merry told the family about how the year had gone so far.

"Professor Dumbledore sealed off the third-floor corridor this year for some reason," Merry was telling Madam Fawley. "The teachers haven't told us what it is, but Professor McGonagall told Kevin and I that anyone found snooping is to be sent to her or the Headmaster immediately."

"Doyle Marchbanks lost Ravenclaw forty points when Professor Kettleburn found him trying to get through the locked door," Sullivan piped up, affirming his sister's comment. "And Kettleburn is more easygoing than Sprout."

"Professor Sprout," his mother corrected idly as she pondered that information. "What could they have in Hogwarts that would cause them to close down an entire corridor?"

"I have no idea," Meredith declared as she helped herself to another helping of salad. "But thank god Dora Tonks graduated last year or we wouldn't have any points left. One of the Slytherin first years got seventy points docked from it."

The chuckles around the table thinking about Meredith Fawley's older and much clumsier friend stumbling into the corridor by accident were immediately replaced by looks of curiosity towards Edmund. Inwardly groaning he gave his sister an eye before turning to his mother. "It was Draco Malfoy."

"Lucius Malfoy's son…. Bound to be a wee bit pompous, is he?" his father finally joined the conversation.

"Oh incredibly," he sighed to his father. "That night knocked him down a few pegs though. Which is good for the rest of us.

"Bit annoying though," he continued after swallowing his food. "I worked hard to get those points."

"Did you?" his mother arched an eye-brow. "All by yourself?"

"Well no," Edmund forced down a blush. He had to tread carefully to avoid a lecture. "But really, mum, all the points I earned essentially went down the drain."

Meredith, taken pity on him came to his rescue. "Edmund does earn a lot of points for Slytherin. The Head Boy and Girl get a copy of the register each week."

"What classes?" Grandfather Fawley asked.

"Charms and Potions," he said shooting Merry a thankful look. "Transfiguration too but Daphne is a really much better at that than I am."

Sullivan muttered something under his breath causing Meredith to hit him in the arm, scolding him quietly. Edmund felt his emotional shields go up. This face off was going to happen sooner rather than later.

"Do you have something to say, Sullivan?" his father demanded. "You know that muttering goes against the ways of a gentleman?"

"Sorry father," Sullivan Fawley sat straighter, fixing Edmund with a glare. "Just that it much be easy getting points in potions with the favoritism Professor Snape shows to his house."

"That's enough," his mother began.

Edmund felt his indignation rising, but quickly schooled himself, putting up an indifferent facial expression as he returned his brother's gaze. "The Gryffindors make complete fools of themselves in class," he said coolly. "Maybe if they came prepared they wouldn't lose so many points."

Scoffing, Sullivan looked at him incredulously. "Snape is biased towards his own House."

"And your biased against it," Edmund retorted.

"Enough!" Ned Fawley exclaimed sharply before his eldest son could respond. "I am much more interested in learning about your housemates," he told Edmund. "You mentioned Lucius Malfoy's son, and we met Miss Greengrass."

"A lovely young lady," Simon Fawley interrupted.

"Yes, yes," Edmund's father agreed. "But who else?"

As Edmund listed off the names of his Slytherin year mates and others such as Flint and Adrian, Ned Fawley's eyes narrowed briefly before sharing a look with his father. Four months ago, Edmund wouldn't have noticed such a look, but being in Slytherin had taught him to be more observant, and much more careful about the reactions of others. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

"None at all," his father answered easily without missing a beat. "Would you indulge me however, after dessert, in joining your grandfather and me in the study?"

"Of course, father," Edmund answered, his curiosity piqued.

The remainder of dinner was less contentious. His mother was pleased at Edmund's academic efforts and was very interested in hearing about Daphne, a topic Edmund tried to downplay as much as possible as he was still confused as to what his feelings for her were. Eventually the conversation turned to more work-related things, Wizengamot meetings and Ministry affairs, and a few complaints about the Irish Council. Ned Fawley had only returned to Britain from New York a week ago after the International Confederation of Wizards sent a delegation to supervise the MACUSA elections and would be going to France shortly after the second term began at Hogwarts. Madam Fawley had been involved in a rather laborious trial involving self-inking quills being sold to muggles in Scotland, and Grandfather Fawley had sent more complaints to Cornelius Fudge on behalf of the Council. All in all, it was a typical Fawley family dinner.

As Ned Fawley finished the last of his pudding, he excused himself and left through the back doorway towards his study. Knowing he was expected to follow, Edmund turned to his mother, excusing himself before leaving the room. His father's study was a warm room with thick carpets and pedestals which housed countless relics he had been gifted or collected on his travels. The far wall housed two separate shields, each with the head of a stag on it. Ned Fawley had partaken in a muggle hunt on one of his first diplomatic visits to the United States. He had never hunted again, but he brought the souvenirs back with him, to remind him of what he called "the tragedy of the muggle creativity."

Instead of walking to the desk, his father led him to the fireplace, where some chairs were gathered in a semicircle around a table. Sitting down, he sent a flame towards the hearth, bringing some heat to the room. Why his father never used the heating charms Gemma had showed him Edmund didn't know, but he resolved to ask at a later date.

"Ah very nice, we have a fire going," Grandfather Fawley, who Edmund had not noticed came in, sighed agreeably as he sunk into one of the armchairs. "A good fire and a good chair always make for good conversation."

"Have you found all your things to be in order?" his father asked him as he too settled into a chair.

"Yes, father," Edmund said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I have become aware of the falling out you had with your brother," his father said sternly. "He wrote to us shortly after the start of term saying you had shunned his support."

"With all due respect to Sullivan, father, grandfather, but 'his support' was much more an interrogation then a helping hand," he stated angrily. "He made it out to be my fault! That I had done something wrong."

Ned Fawley held up a hand, stopping his son from continuing. "Very well. This is a matter between the two of you, and I ask that you resolve it with expedience."

"Yes, father," Edmund said quietly.

"That is not the only reason we have asked you here, however," he spoke again, gesturing towards Grandfather Fawley. "Many of your housemates in Slytherin come from very… politically astute families."

"Greengrass, Parkinson, Malfoy," Simon Fawley continued. "And the Notts, Travers, and Rowles all have children in the House as well."

"I am aware of this," Edmund said tentatively, not sure where the two adults were going with the current line of conversation. "I get along well enough with Daphne, Pansy, and Theodore. Marcus Travers is the seventh-year prefect and pays the first years no mind."

The two adults shared a brief look, as if making a silent decision. "That may be the case," Ned Fawley said slowly, obviously struggling to find the right words to placate his son. "but you cannot deny that there are also families such as the Malfoys that would seek to exploit you for who you are."

"We would like to teach you something called occlumency," Grandfather Fawley spoke up. "It is a difficult and complex mind art that will help you control your emotions and protect your mind from those who may attempt to abuse it."

Edmund sat quietly for a few moments, conflicted. He was excited at the prospect of learning a rare piece of magic. He had heard his father discuss the subject of the mind arts once after he had returned from a trip to Nigeria. It was not a widely practiced skill and many who trained to become occlumens failed under the pressure.

On the other hand, he didn't like the implications his father and grandfather were making. It was insulting that they thought he could not take care of himself. He wasn't some precious child to give extra padding like a black sheep.

"Who would teach me?" he asked. He would swallow his pride for now. Regardless of the intentions behind them, learning occlumency would give him an advantage that he could use far beyond the Slytherin Dungeons.

"Your Grandfather is quite an accomplished occlumens," Ned Fawley gestured at his father. "Ultimately he will oversee your training."

"I will come and evaluate your progress whenever my business at the school allows me," Simon bowed his head briefly. "In the meantime, I'll be in touch with Professor Kettleburn. Silvanus is a personal friend from my school days."

"Crazy Professor Kettleburn?" Edmund asked incredulously. "The man is completely mad!"

"A trait," the Fawley Patriarch stood up, straitening his robes, "that has no correlation with occlumency. I will write to him post haste."

Both Edmund and his father stood up as his Grandfather made his departure, most likely to the family rookery to send the letter. His father briefly laid a hand on his shoulder before walking over to his desk. Taking this as a clear dismissal, Edmund quietly left the study for his own room.

* * *

The next few days Edmund grew more nervous for the Winter Solstice, when Daphne would come to visit. Wayne Hopkins and Susan Bones had visited the day after they'd all returned from school and its aftermath had led to a new appreciation for his friendship with the Slytherin girl.

Susan and Wayne had been regular guests at the Promenade since they were young, when Mister Hopkins, a muggleborn wizard whose muggle parents were grammar school teachers, tutored them in maths, sciences, English and other subjects. The three had stayed good friends and went to Quidditch games together. That had all changed after the sorting. Apart from the confrontation outside the Charms Classroom on the first day of last term, he hadn't spoken to either of them.

They had both come in the late morning. Promenade-On-Finn was a wide expanse overlooking the river Finn. Edmund went out to meet them at the apparation point separated from the house by roughly two-hundred meters of precisely and perfectly trimmed grass. A tall gate separated the manicured lawn from the pavilion which housed the floo network for the Fawley family. Generations of Fawley's had refused to open a floo network inside the household for fear of trespass, and it was only when Sullivan had started Hogwarts that Edmund's father and grandfather had established a floo inside the house for departures only.

He did not have to wait on the landing long before the sharp green flames of the floo network flared up, depositing Susan Bones onto the rough stone landing. The two friends stared at each other for a moment in silence. When it became apparent that his friend was at a loss for words, Edmund broke the silence and giving her a hug. "Good to see you, Susan."

It took a minute for the surprised Susan to reciprocate, a sign of how much distance now stood between their once close friendship. "It's good to see you, Edmund," she said. "Happy holidays."

Her voice sounded relieved, a fact Edmund picked up on, but decided not to comment. The two of them would have some work to do in repairing their friendship. He only hoped they would have the chance.

"Is Wayne coming?" he asked.

"Yes, he should be here soon." Susan paused hesitantly. "We're both sorry about Ernie… he was out of line that day."

Edmund sighed inwardly. The Charms incident in the beginning of the year had simmered through the rest of term, with the Hufflepuff boy wasting no time in making his opinion that Edmund had joined the dark side known by other first years and older Hufflepuffs. "I shouldn't have taken his bait," he shrugged.

Susan was denied a chance at responding, as the flames roared in the hearth again, dropping off Wayne Hopkins, who had a less then stellar tumble into the stone.

"Welcome," Edmund greeted dryly as he extended a hand to Wayne. Susan could barely control her giggles at their friend's lack of elegance.

Wayne muttered to himself before smiling good naturedly as he took the proffered hand. "Didn't say it clearly enough," he shook his head. "My mum would kill me if she found out. Landed somewhere in Norwich so I flooed to the Leaky Cauldron before coming here."

"That's a child's mistake," Susan exclaimed in disbelief.

Edmund merely raised an eyebrow as Wayne scrunched his face in confusion before looking at the girl incredulously. "You do realize we are children still, don't you?" he asked.

Susan blushed deeply at Wayne's question. "It's just different," she said as she walked towards the gate of the Promenade. "Are you guys coming?"

Wayne and Edmund looked at each other briefly as Susan got nearer to the gate. "Mental she is," Wayne grinned as the two of them ran towards the gate to catch up to their friend.

"Jokes on her," Edmund told Wayne. "My grandfather changed the wards. They aren't keyed to non-Fawleys anymore."

Sure enough, Susan had walked up the gate, and was now rubbing her head. "The bars are solid," she complained to Edmund as he and Wayne caught up to her.

"Grandfather changed the wards," Edmund explained to Susan as he walked through the gate as if smoke. "I have to open them myself now."

Both Edmund and Sullivan were the only ones in the family who had little formal training in runes, and as neither of them could use magic outside of school, their mother had created a rune scheme allowing the two of them to open the gates by hand. The panel on wall next to the gate required flesh recognition and for a small knob to be pulled out and twisted counter-clockwise two times. Once done, anyone on the outside could open the gate, in which the scheme reset itself. Coming from a family riddled with prolific and controversial figures, the Fawley family valued a certain level of privacy and security within their walls.

Edmund pulled open the gate as Susan and Wayne slipped in before closing it again. "The muggles have been fighting again," Edmund told Wayne and Susan as he led them towards the front doors of the Promenade. "The Irish Council has become very concerned and Grandfather has been pressuring Fudge to get the Muggle Minister in line."

Wayne, who lived in Belfast agreed. "It's worse where we are," he told Susan. "Mum won't let us out of the house."

Edmund's grandfather, Simon Fawley, was Chief of the Irish Council, a devolved conference of Irish Wizards who worked to promote the Irish culture and stability on the isle. Wayne's father, Warren Hopkins was a successful linguist and worked at the council part time for Office of Language in the Department of Cultural Affairs. Edmund was not completely sure what the trouble was, but he had overheard Mr. Hopkins and his grandfather discussing the issue at length several times.

Their brief pondering was interrupted by Madam Fawley, who opened the front door and stepped out of the house to greet Susan and Wayne.

"How are you two?" she asked after enveloping them in a hug.

"Fine, thank you, Madam Fawley," Susan answered promptly. "Term went well."

As Edmund's mother left the three to their own devices, Edmund took them up to his room. "We can play exploding snap," he called out to them as he made his way to a cabinet, where he kept his Wizard Cards and other various games. There was no response. Turning around questioningly, he saw the reason for his friends' silence. They were standing in the doorway looking at the new decorations. Long gone were the lighter buff colors Susan and Wayne had seen every other time at the Promenade, replaced with the darker greenish hues that Edmund admittedly found more comfortable.

"Mother changed it," he told them quietly, in explanation. Wayne merely nodded, stepping into the room, but Susan lingered in the doorway.

"It's really real, isn't it?" she asked him. "Things have changed."

Hearing those words from one of his best friends was like a knife stab. Wayne silently scuffed his feat beside Edmund as Susan stood in the doorway staring apprehensively.

Edmund merely nodded his head. "Yeah," he whispered. "It has."

The rest of the visit had been silent, and perhaps a bit forced. Wayne, who's father had been in Hufflepuff but not his mother, was more comfortable with his friend's surprise sorting into Slytherin, but Susan's question had left an unmistakable tension amongst the three of them. Edmund had walked them to the gates a few hours after some quiet games of exploding snap – previously an impossibility he had thought – and saw them off in the floo hearth.

Edmund found himself wanting for more of his usual companions but was unsure of how his family would react during Daphne's visit. What worried him even more was Daphne's opinion of his own family. He may have become friendly with quite a few Slytherins, but not many in his year, and not many that would be willing to visit him.

On the morning of the Winter Solstice, Edmund rushed down to the dining room earlier than usual. A typical breakfast was normally eaten in the kitchen, but Edmund's grandfather insisted on using it for special days, even if they didn't eat at the same time.

"Well, well, well, top of the morning to ya young, Edmund," Simon Fawley looked up in amusement over the paper, the weekly copy of _The Weekly Watcher_ , the news pertaining towards the International Confederation of Wizards in Geneva. "You are up, fairly early, I say."

Edmund paused to take a breath, having ran down the stairs, before answering his grandfather. "Good morning, Grandfather."

Simon Fawley chuckled to himself as he watched his youngest grandson take a seat at the table, helping himself to some of the fruit Worrow had left out. Of all his Grandchildren, Simon felt as if he understood Edmund the least, and the most. In many ways, he could relate to him better than anyone else. "Have I ever told you how difficult a time I had at Hogwarts?" he asked as he took another sip of tea, closing the paper and sending it to the news rack to gather dust.

Edmund looked up in surprise. "No," he said. His grandfather very rarely spoke of his time at Hogwarts.

"Ah yes," the older man mused. "It was a difficult time for me." Edmund watched as his grandfather stared into space for some time before speaking again.

"You know the history of your great-grandfather do you not? He was a kind man, but much of his time was taken up building his profile here and overseas. He was successful and smart, and he knew it. He was also a charmer, and he could sell you a Cleansweep for the price of a Nimbus. He gave his seat on the Wizengamot to my uncle and would only take it up again to make grand speeches regarding the state of our economy. In the beginning, he was highly controversial, incredibly prolific, and everyone in the Wizarding World knew my family because of it. That's the scene I entered upon when I went to Hogwarts.

At some point in my education, in 1925, he ran for Minister for Magic. His predecessor, Lorcan McLaird was quite unpopular, as I recall. And suddenly, when I returned to Hogwarts after one Christmas Holiday, I was the son of the Minister for Magic, and even more information about my family was shared in the paper. 'Flamboyant Fawley' they called my father, and it was in no way an easy burden being his son."

Simon finished his musuings as he looked upon his grandson once again. Edmund had turned to his plate, moving pieces of melon with a slice of toast. "Look here, lad."

Edmund gazed up at his Grandfather again. "You may be struggling right now to find your place amongst peers who think they understand, but you must know that they cannot. Your friend, Miss Greengrass seems to be a very nice young lady, and I will make sure that her visit here will witness no events to put that friendship in jeopardy."

With that, Simon Fawley stood up from his chair and moved to leave the room before stopping at the door. "Remember that the most important house you will ever belong to is that of the House of Fawley," he called out. "Not Hufflepuff, and not Slytherin."

Edmund smiled briefly as his grandfather swept out of the room, robes of pale gold swishing after him. With some of his tensions abated, Edmund dug into his meal before getting ready to greet Daphne art the gate.

* * *

Daphne had sent an owl the previous day to inform Edmund that she would be arriving with her father at half past ten in the morning. At twenty-five past, Edmund stood with his Grandfather and Worrow at the gates, watching the hearth. His parents had already departed for Dublin to meet some friends, which left his grandfather to greet Daphne and her father.

At half past, the familiar green flames roared upwards, and Daphne, guided by the burly figure of her father stepped onto the platform. "Simon," Michael Greengrass bowed his head slightly, recognizing the other's age and seniority.

"Michael," Simon Fawley greeted in turn as he extended his hands out. "Welcome to Promenade-On-Finn."

Turning to Daphne, Edmund's grandfather smiled again. "You honor us with your presence, young Miss Greengrass. Welcome."

The adults continued to exchange small talk and pleasantries as Edmund shifted his feat impatiently. Finally, his grandfather invited Mr. Greengrass in, which the latter politely declined before hugging his daughter and apparating away. Grandfather Fawley opened the gates for Daphne, and then took hs leave from the two to go for a stroll through the garden. "Lunch will be in the dining room at half-past he called to them before he walked across the lawn, Worrow following closely at his heel.

Daphne stared after them curiously. "Does your house-elf always follow your grandfather?" she asked Edmund.

"Nah," he grinned. "Grandfather grows roses, and he inspects them every day. Worrow goes with him and makes note of any improvements or ingredients he needs."

"I see," Daphne muttered, turning back to Edmund. "Thanks for inviting me over," she smiled brightly.

Declining to remind her that it was his sister, who had invited her and not him, he smiled briefly. "It's no problem, I've been getting bored."

"Well we shall fix that today," Daphne declared. "Let's have a tour of the house."

* * *

It took the better part of the morning to show Daphne the Manor house. She had been fascinated by the Library and the towering bookcases, the ballroom, the atrium with the moving mosaics which greeted guests walking across it. The latter particularly enthralled Daphne, who was greeted as they entered the Atrium with a 'Welcome to The Promenade Young Lady Daphne,' the words following her as she walked across the floor.

A few minutes before 12:30, Edmund led Daphne back to the dining room, where Meredith Fawley was sitting with one of her friends from school. Upon seeing her brother and his friend, she stood up excitedly from the table. "Daphne! Welcome to the Prom!" referring to the manor by its colloquial terminology.

Daphne nodded politely at Merry and was taken by surprise as the older girl walked around the table to give her a quick hug before going back to her seat. Edmund chuckled softly. Everyone was accepted as family under the Fawley roof, and his sister was the perfect demonstration of that mindset.

To his sister's left, sat one of her closest friends, Stephanie Douglas, the Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and someone who Edmund could easily say was his first crush. "Daphne," he gestured to Stephanie, "this is Stephanie Douglas. Stephanie, Daphne Greengrass."

"It's nice to meet you," Stephanie politely extended her hand across the table. "Merry tells me that our little Eddie is very fond of you."

Edmund failed to repress the heat that flew to his face amidst Daphne and his sister's giggles while Stephanie threw him a playful smile. His siblings used to call him little Eddie when he was younger, and he had always hated it. Not all of Merry's friends had quit themselves of the habit. A positive of not having been sorted into Hufflepuff, he reasoned.

As the four took their seats around the table, Meredith sitting at the end of the table flanked by Daphne and Stephanie with Edmund on the other side of his friend, Sullivan and Cedric Diggory walked into the room. Tensions between the two Fawley brothers had still been running high from their first night back, but Sullivan, ever the charmer and raised to be the next head of the family, didn't let it show as he greeted both Daphne and Stephanie and made the introductions to the former with his own friend.

At exactly half past Simon Fawley walked in and took the seat at the head of the table. "Mr. Diggory and Ms. Douglas," he addressed the two familiar friends. "Welcome back to Promenade-On-Finn."

The two greeted him cordially. They had known the old Fawley patriarch for years and he had been like a second grandfather to them. Turning to Daphne, he addressed her with a warm glint in his eyes. "And you, Ms. Greengrass. I trust my grandson has been a suitable guide as he gives away our ancient secrets?"

The older kids laughed at this while Daphne nodded. "Yes, sir," she smiled slightly. "The House is amazing."

"Generations of our family have lived here, Ms. Greengrass," Edmund's grandfather said knowingly. "Back since before the Ministry was even a mere thought."

"Don't make this political, grandfather," Merry chuckled softly. "That's for tonight."

Edmund's grandfather digressed as more general conversation broke across the table. Daphne turned to Edmund slightly with a questioning look on her face that was gone in an instant as Edmund subtlety shook her head. He would answer her questions in private.

* * *

After a wonderful lunch of corned beef on rye and fruit, Edmund led Daphne up to his room, where he plopped onto the bed. Daphne sat down gingerly on the edge of the mattress, burning with questions.

"I'm not answering an unasked, question," Edmund chuckled teasingly.

"What did your sister mean about politics?"

"Do you know what the Irish Council is?" Edmund asked. As Daphne shook her head, he continued. "Well do you know who the first Minister for Magic was?"

"That's easy," the blonde-haired girl scoffed. "Everyone knows it was Ullick Gamp."

Edmund nodded in acknowledgement of that fact before continuing. "Yes but before that. Ulick Gamp was elected in 1707 with pressure from the ICW. Prior to this, there was the Wizard's Council, but they didn't have sole authority. In Ireland, there was the Irish Council, which was recognized as the highest authority on this isle, much to the consternation of the Wizard Council.

After the Ministry was formed, the Irish Council put up quite a fight, not taking the decision well at all. The ICW had to send a delegation to work something out. Basically, the Irish Council had to give some of their power over to the Ministry, creating the Wizarding Britain you know today."

"Isn't your family involved in the upper levels of the Ministry?" Daphne asked.

'Yes, but the Irish Council is much more of a cultural body now. My Grandfather is the Chief. Has been since as long as I could remember. They don't have their own Auror force or anything, but the Chief does have a direct line to the Minister," Edmund finished. "It's all very complicated in my opinion."

Daphne nodded her head in agreement.

* * *

Edmund had fully enjoyed having Daphne over. They had played Wizard's Chess, exploding snap, and played a one-on-one quidditch match in the field behind the manor. Towards the end, they had sat at the base of one of the ancient Blackthorn trees and discussed school and some of the homework they had been assigned for the break.

Daphne had stayed for dinner, which was just the six kids as the Fawley Patriarch had departed for Dublin several hours earlier. Worrow had made them a steaming plate of mashed potatoes and gravy with vegetables and chicken. They ate in relative silence, both Daphne and Edmund exhausted from a day filled with activity.

After dinner, Merry and Stephanie led Edmund and Daphne to the floo hearth to await Daphne's father. "Do you two want a moment to say goodbye?" Merry whispered to Edmund sweetly. He would have responded with a rude gesture had the hearth not lit up with the green floo flames at that instant, depositing Michael Greengrass. As Merry made small talk with her father, Dpahne turned around to face Edmund. The two hugged briefly, with Daphne whispering in his ear, "See you at New Years," before joining her father in the green flames as they flooed back to Greengrass Manor.

Edmund was more than a little sad at the departure of his friend, but before he could think too much about it, he felt Merry's arm squeeze him tight. "You'll be thankful you are friends with her, someday, Edmund," she said softly before she and Stephanie walked back to the house.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Let me know what you all think, I really welcome all the reviews and Pms you send me._


	8. Chapter 8

**A Tale Of Rivals**

 **By Elk99**

 **A/N:** _Chapter Eight is a bit longer. Sorry for the wait. Please enjoy the chapter and once again, review. Your comments make me a better writer, especially if I have feedback._

* * *

Edmund was kept busy in the days following Daphne's visit to the Promenade. The next day, the day before Christmas Eve was his first Occlumency lesson with his grandfather. He had received a book from the family library, "Cath don Ard-Teampaill" which translated from Gaelic meant something similar to 'The Battle for the Highest Temple.' He had learned Gaelic at an early age, almost as soon as he had learned English and was fairly comfortable with the language, but he was unsure if such an aged book was reliable or not. The binding felt practically ancient and the pages were yellowed and dry. It looked like it had seen its fair share of preservation charms. He had no idea why his grandfather had insisted on this book when he had seen plenty of other books in the library about the mind arts that were much more updated.

Simon Fawley, as patriarch of the House of Fawley had a grand study in the center of the house, outlooking the River Finn. Edmund had only been there three times before, but each time was distinctive in his mind. His father had once told him that you could gain insight into a gentleman with how he decorated his study, and his grandfather was no different. It was a dark room, the large windows overlooking the river being covered by old gold tapestries. A crucifix hung on one wall next to a muggle portrait of the Pope, while the adjacent wall, behind his grandfather's massive cherry wood desk hung two oil portraits. The figures on both portraits posed stock still, and apart from a slight twitch to the careful eye, they appeared to be in the muggle style; the family founders.

Edmund's grandfather himself sat at the desk. Sitting down at one of the arm chairs at the desk, he watched the older man continue to write. Simon Fawley was wearing a dark green and black robe, speckled with silver stars and golden half-moons, distinguishing marks of the old robes that had long fell out of fashion with Edmund's parents' generation, although he had seen many, Dumbledore and Otto Druvitch, a family friend, wear them proudly. He had carefully brushed and parted silvery-grey hair but had done away with the traditional beard or goatee that was so popular among his generation. Two sigil rings adorned his hand, flanking an ornate silver wedding band.

Finally, just as Edmund had begun to get impatient with his musings, his grandfather sat up and put the roll of parchment he was writing to the side and looked up at him. "You will never be as powerful at Transfiguration as your sister or brother," he said bluntly.

Taken aback, Edmund had no time to respond before his grandfather pulled out a ledger. "Detail your wand for me, lad."

"Dogwood with unicorn hair," he responded quietly. "Thirteen and a half inches, swishy."

His grandfather scribbled out notes on the ledger for a time. "How familiar are you with the relation between the wand and the wizard?" he asked without looking up.

"Not familiar at all," he responded, a hint of confusion creeping into his voice. He had thought this meeting was to train him in occlumency.

If his grandfather noted the confusion in his grandson's voice, he didn't show it. Eventually looking up, he took a deep breath as he launched into the now increasingly frequent monologue. "No doubt, Garrick told you that the wand chooses the wizard," he referred to his good friend and celebrated wandmaker. "This is true, and the wand reflects one's personality and gives us an insight on the types of magic that they will be most proficient in."

He took a breath and looked at the ledger once more before continuing. "Your sister is the owner of an English Oak wand, while your brother was chosen by a Red Oak wand. Both of your parents were chosen by Ebony wands while I myself have a wand made with Vine wood. You are most certainly not the first to possess a dogwood wand, your great grandfather owned one, and he was the greatest Charms Master I have ever seen."

"You think this explains my proficiency in Charms?" Edmund asked.

"No," his grandfather said immediately. "I am saying your proficiency in charms helps explain why your wand chose you. If I am correct, you will far surpass your siblings in Charms, yet where you have strengths, so too do they."

Edmund, beginning to catch on, finished his grandfather's thoughts. "This is about the familial unity surpassing school house unity, is it not? We need to support each other is what you are saying."

His grandfather nodded. "You are different from your siblings," he said bluntly. "But a look at our history would tell you that you do indeed possess traits of a Fawley. It just so happens that different traits have manifested in your brother and sister."

"How so?"

"Let's see if you can figure it out," Simon sat back in his chair. "Start with the portraits. Who are they."

Edmund looked at the first portrait of a handsome looking man with a black tunic. He boasted a full head of brown hair that was combed back, with a regal like wizard's hat on his head. "Maitland Fawley," he whispered almost reverently.

"Very good," he nodded. "The first Fawley of Magical record. A loyal Hufflepuff, was trained by the founders themselves. He built his homestead in Buckinghamshire. And the other one?"

Edmund gazed at the portrait of the woman. She was beautiful, with an aristocratic face and rich auburn hair that fell gracefully along her shoulders. Her outfit on the other hand, was warlike, with a fur cloaked wrapped around her. "Queen Maeve," he said, even softer this time.

"Aye," his grandfather said somberly. "Cuthbert Fawley married the sole heir to the line of Queen Maeve in the 1300s. As per the agreement with Eireanne's father, Cuthbert agreed to abandon the homestead in Buckinghamshire to establish a line of Irish descent, that followed the ancient traditions. Before Cuthbert and Eireanne, we were a modest family of modest means. After, we absorbed their wealth and knowledge. We owe what we have to their providence."

"I understand, grandfather," Edmund answered quietly.

"You are wondering what this has to do with occlumency." Edmund did not respond. He knew one was not expected of him.

"The book in your hand, comes straight from the Library of Queen Maeve," Simon continued. "I obtained it yesterday from An Glóirmhar and brought it to you this morning."

Edmund looked shocked as he examined the book once more. Sure enough, in the top corner was imprinted the sigil of Queen Maeve.

"Maeve was an accomplished occlumens," the old man spoke again once Edmund had found the identifying mark. "You will learn the these most basic teachings with me, and you will work on them diligently and independently, sharing our secrets with no one," he warned. "Professor Kettleburn will test you, weekly, but even he cannot be privy to our secrets."

Slightly cowed by what he had been told, Edmund merely nodded. It was a little known fact that he was descended from Maeve, and his family did not advertise it, but the Fawley's had access to ancient magic to rival the Libraries of Alexandria and Constantinople and his father and grandfather guarded it closely. Edmund had been there only once when he was younger. He felt honored to actually hold one of these ancient volumes.

"Have Merry and Sullivan learned this?" he asked his grandfather.

"No," Simon Fawley shook his head. "And this brings me back to what I was saying about strengths. They can choose to learn it if they so wish, but it's a hard art, and I suspect you have an inclination for it."

Despite his misgivings, Edmund felt honored that his grandfather thought he could do something Merry, the Head Girl and Sullivan, the Quidditch Star, couldn't do as well. He nodded his head. "Very well, Grandfather. Let's get to work."

The spent the next hour discussing the intricacies of the mind and how to create a mindscape that would protect against attackers. Contemporary occlumency guides instructed the trainee to clear the mind so that it remained barren of thoughts, and then to create a mindscape, a mental obstacle course of sorts. The method laid out by Maeve had a similar goal, but a different methodology.

Instead of clearing the mind as was most commonly instructed, the book said to create the obstacles from your own depth. The thoughts would be hidden, but in plain sight. In theory, even if a legilimens was able to tear down the defenses and sweep them away, they would unwittingly discard the very thoughts they were trying to find. It was a simple method, but it required meditation every night until mastery was achieved. Even during the meditation, Maeve wrote that the mind's imagination could wander during sleep hours, causing vivid dreams and nightmares until mastery was achieved.

 _The power of the highest temple is vast to those who are trained to wield it, and some who lack the will can succumb to the sleeping fears of their own creativity. Controlling these complications in the evening hours will lead to complete control of the mind, and the defense of it shall be powerful._

Edmund read this passage of the book in Gaelic with his Grandfather, who explained that for the first few nights of the process, he would monitor his sleep while he fought against his own demons. Simon Fawley had studied the mind arts in the Library of Alexandria, and had theorized, with the help of the Fawley Library and the Collection of Maeve, that someone younger, who has fewer demons and greater innocence then the typical beginner of occlumency, would be less prone to the dreams. However, the two had agreed to keep this information from Madam Fawley. His grandfather told him if he thought the sleep battles were to extreme, they would stop the training and figure out something else.

That night, Edmund sat on the soft green rug on the floor of his bed, his grandfather sat in the armchair in the corner. The two had gone over what to do in some length after dinner. "Are you ready, lad?" Edmund looked up as his grandfather held his wand over his head. As school was not in session, he was not allowed to use magic. His grandfather would cast the meditation incantation on him which would give him the ability to enter the meditative state as detailed by Queen Maeve.

" _Scitheasca!"_

* * *

He had been floating around for hours, if not days, across the green fields. He had started by the sea, he knew that. The terrain as familiar to him, but the creatures were not. A golden winged creature, a griffin perhaps had flown past him, as well as several nymphs and druids. Centaurs ran across the hills in the distance. He saw it all as he continued to float ahead. He did not know where he was going, but he knew he was headed in the right direction. A lake appeared over the horizon. Finally. He had found his destination.

The lake continued to get closer and closer. It too, was familiar, but he couldn't place it. He had definitely been here before. In another life perhaps. But that was silly, he didn't believe in reincarnation.

The boy didn't know what would happen when he reached the lake. Perhaps he would take a bath or drink the water. Perhaps he would skip flat stones across the surface as he admired the sunlight reflected off a sparkling blue. This lake wasn't as familiar as it had once been. It wasn't so sparkly before, unless he had forgotten to look properly.

The water did not move as the silvery substance rose from the center of the lake. The boy found himself stuck as it continued to approach him. The figure of a woman could be made out behind the misty layer, and as she got closer the boy found himself more and more at ease. She stopped in front of him. She was beautiful, with blonde, platinum like hair cascading down her shoulders, and eyes of the lightest blue.

"You know how to reach us now," she whispered.

* * *

Edmund opened his eyes suddenly. The sun had gone down completely, and he was still sitting on rug next to his bed. Grandfather Fawley was watching him like a hawk from his armchair, leaning forth slightly now that Edmund had snapped out of whatever trance the spell had placed him in.

"Who was that woman?" he asked his Grandfather.

Simon Fawley gave a small chuckle. "A woman may be the form it took," he said, "but what you saw was something far more ethereal. What you saw was a creature of pure magic, magic of the mind, or as Maeve would say, a creature of the Highest Temple."

"What does one call it?" Edmund asked, his curiosity of what he saw piqued.

"We do not know," Simon Fawley. "Many of the Roscommons that came after Maeve studied her texts and methods in copious detail. To date, the environment that the meditation spell casts the target into is the only sign of such magic."

Edmund nodded in understanding. "What do I do next?"

"Building the mindscape should come naturally to you now," his grandfather answered. "What you must practice is strength. In the beginning it will be easy to tear it down."

Edmund went to bed that night feeling good about his mindscape. He had begun with the construction of a gray wall surrounding a keep. He did his best to imbue his thoughts into the structure, effectively hiding them from any unwanted probe. While he fell asleep peacefully, his dreams were anything but calm.

He had been running down the halls of Hogwarts. Something was chasing him but he didn't dare turn around to see what it was. Somehow he knew if he even turned a fraction he would be caught by whatever was chasing him. He kept running. He recognized where he was now. The Third floor. The door ahead was the forbidden corridor. He ran through the door, only to be met by Albus Dumbledore who had his wand raised at him. A dark green light was the last thing Edmund saw before being shaken awake by his grandfather.

* * *

Edmund had been shaken awake the next morning by his grandfather, after a restless night. He had woken several times throughout the night and rushed into the old man's comforting embrace, something Edmund had restrained himself from doing last year after Sullivan had teased him about it. The dreams felt real; more real than any normal dream ought to be, yet their content was so fantastical that it was not possible for them to even be remotely true.

He had seen his Headmaster dueling both Minister Fudge and Bagnold, a giant dragon breathing fire on his home, and the dungeon ceiling of his dormitory collapsing on him and filling with the greenish water of the Black Lake. It had not been a relaxing night. At one point he had seen Daphne crying, but she couldn't hear him call out to her. That specific dream had been much more disconcerting, as the chance of it occurring was much more realistic. He had declined to share that part with his grandfather, instead turning to Maeve's book to learn more. According to his ancestor, the first few nights could invoke deep emotion that he would eventually grow accustomed to. If his understanding was correct, he would become able to shield his mind from not only mental onslaughts, but verbal ones as well. Schooling the outward demeanor was just as important as schooling the inward one.

Christmas was upon the Fawley residence, and Edmund had to take a pepper-up potion to hide the effects of the occlumency meditations from his siblings and mother. The Fawley's never stayed at the family manor for Christmas Eve, instead going south to the family holdings in Roscommon. Christmas was Edmund's favorite time of year, precisely for this reason. County Roscommon was where the descendants of Maeve had settled until they merged into the House of Fawley, and it was the home of the family's most closely guarded secret, the great library of Maeve, An Glóirmhar. The Fawley children had always been allowed to spend an hour or two in the library every Christmas, although they were forbidden from using it to do schoolwork, for fear of word getting out that they possessed such a cache of knowledge.

The motivation to see the library seemed to get him through the morning, and at exactly half-past noon, he met his siblings and parents in the Hall, his travelling cloak tightly fastened. "Are you sure you're all right dear?" his mother asked, glancing worriedly at his face. "You look a wee bit peaky."

"I'm fine, mum," he brushed her concerns to the side. "Can we please go? I want to see the library."

Luckily, Edmund's father was in a hurry as well, and urged his wife to let the matter be as he grabbed some floo powder and tossed it into the hearth. "Let it go for now, please, Elodie, we are running a bit late as it is." Turning to look at his youngest son, he beckoned him over. "If you would be so kind to go first…"

Edmund stepped into the flames. He hated being first and he knew he was only because he was the youngest. "Saint Midabaria Abbey," he called out loudly and clearly before he was funneled into the magical tunnels of the floo.

Before too long, he had been deposited at the hearth of a long room with beds on either side; the hospital wing, and it was filled with a few Healers in white robes that had stopped their work to greet him. These were the Sisters of St. Midabaria, one of the only Catholic Orders in the Wizarding World and definitely the only one in Great Britain. Somewhere along the line, a Fawley had taken Holy Orders and founded this Order of the Friars and Sisters of St. Midabaria. The order was committed to healing and Edmund had grown up around the friars and sisters.

An older man who wore a gold chain as a belt stepped forward smiling. "Well if it isn't the black sheep of the family!" he chortled as he opened his arms. "Come on now, give your great-uncle a hug, don't dilly dally!"

Edmund couldn't help but giggle softly as he greeted his great-uncle. It didn't bother him when his uncle had mentioned his sorting, because Michael Fawley, leader of the Order, always had a way of making someone feel as if all was well. "Good to see you, Uncle Michael."

Just as the two separated, the massive fireplace roared again with Sullivan who was followed by Meredith. Edmund's parents came next and were followed by his grandfather. "How are you, Michael?" their grandfather asked as he embraced his brother.

The four adults conversed briefly, with Meredith listening in while Edmund and Sullivan gazed about the room. They had seen it multiple times before, but it beat listening to whatever their parents were saying about Ministry stuff. Finally, Michael Fawley led them down the hall that eventually entered into an Annex off the Abbey where the Fawley family stayed during the Holidays. It was smaller than _The Promenade_ , with only a sitting room and a few bedrooms. Edmund had never minded. He had his own room, which meant he could avoid Sullivan. It had been easy to do in the expansive Fawley Manor, but would be more difficult in the Abbey, access which was restricted to them.

The sitting room was lightly furnished, but comfortable nonetheless. It hosted several armchairs surrounding a large hearth. The familiar crucifix was posted above the mantle. The bedrooms, apart from the one used by the Fawley parents which was slightly larger, were all the same. Edmund rushed to the room at the far end of the annex, his preferred spot due to a window which overlooked the courtyard, where the friars would meditate and practice magic together. He had spent days during the Easter holidays, when his siblings were at Hogwarts, watching the friars duel each other. There was something elegant about how they meshed their spells together, almost like a dance instead of a fight. Indeed, he thought, it probably was very much more like a dance.

Ned Fawley had once taken his sons to the International Dueling Championship in Berlin, where Edmund and Sullivan had witnessed firsthand spectacular feats of magic. Sullivan had immediately been enthralled, yet Edmund remained more reserved. There was no doubt of the power behind the spells cast during those duels, but they lacked a finesse that the friars possessed. It was a shame, in his opinion, that the Friars of St. Midabaria could not enter into such duels themselves, but their vows prevented them.

Unclasping his cloak and tossing it, with his bag, onto the small bed in the room, he made his way to the single window which overlooked the courtyard. Sure enough the friars were outside, seemingly impervious to the cold. Three were meditating near the stone garden, but five of them were in the process of what looked like an incredibly intricate dance. Edmund watched fascinated as red, purple, and golden streams of light streaked back and forth, with white blurs darting and dodging around them. He had committed long ago to studying the way the friars dueled, watching their every move in the hopes of someday being able to incorporate it into his own dueling style.

He turned as the bedroom door knocked before admitting his sister. "Are they at it this late in the day?" she asked, noting his proximity to the window.

"Yes," he nodded his head in affirmation as Merry joined him by the window side. "Father Padraig is training today."

The two siblings watched the dance for a few moments, particularly focused on old Father Padraig, who Simon Fawley was convinced could've rivalled Dumbledore had he not chosen to take vows instead. The old man was a survivor of Grindelwald, which in itself was an achievement, and to this day moved with a dexterity that could put a man in his prime to shame.

They continued to watch the ducking and weaving around spells in silence. After a few minutes, Merry quietly got his attention. "Dad's allowing us to go to the library. Mum just wants us back for dinner and mass afterwards."

"Brilliant," Edmund exclaimed. The dance of the friars momentarily forgot, he followed his sister to the sitting room where Sullivan was waiting. The three of them set out back into the Abbey, making their way towards the bottommost floor. The population of the Wizarding World that followed the new religions was not high in the first place, and the population that knew of St. Midabaria Abbey was even less. It made it for the perfect hiding place of the Ancient Library of Maeve, An Glóirmhar. The friars and sisters knew of the Library, and were allowed to use it, but they were sworn to secrecy and servitude to its teachings. Apart from the order, the Fawleys were the only ones who knew of its existence. It was their greatest family secret. Many pureblood families had their own grimoire and personal collection, but this was different. Ages upon ages of knowledge were stored underneath the Abbey. Scrolls from Tenochtitlan to Constantinople had been collected by the Fawleys, saved from the wreckage muggles had wrought in those areas. His family had made a fortune transcribing books that were then selectively distributed across the world. The practice had all but halted after the rise of Grindelwald, as no one wanted to draw the Dark Wizard's attention, but no one had seen fit to pick the business up again.

Merry led them down a small set of stairs that seemed to spiral downwards forever. It was devoid of torches, and the light of the Abbey above grew dimmer and dimmer until they finally reached a source of witch light the hung above an iron studded door. _We, descendants of the great Queen, Maeve, ask for entrance to her precious domain_ , Merry spoke in Gaelic as the door turned to a grey mist. Walking through the mist, they found themselves in a massive entrance hall similar to the one in Hogwarts. Indeed, his grandfather had theorized that Helga Hufflepuff, who had studied under Maeve, had designed the Great Hall of Hogwarts off of the Great Hall of the Library.

The Hall was filled with doorways that led to an endless amount of sections ranging from muggle sciences to the dark arts. The latter was locked by his Grandfather and no one, including the Friars and Sisters, had been privy to its contents. At the far end of the Hall, flanked by two staircases that made their way up to an unseen balcony, stood a massive stone woman, scepter in hand with a sword in another. Maeve. Behind her, and up the stairs, housed perhaps one of the most extensive libraries of Genealogy in the Wizarding World. Edmund was the only one who used it, but he had familiarized himself with quite a few family histories over the years. Merry had meandered over to the door leading to the Alchemy section while Sullivan had already rushed off to one of the smaller sections, on aeronautics. Sullivan, a serious Quidditch player who hoped to go to the Professionals had been studying air patterns since he went off to Hogwarts, and it had paid off. His brother was one of the best Quidditch Players he had ever seen.

Edmund made his way to the stairs at the far end of the hall, where Maeve's statue stood tall and imposing. He climbed up the stairs to the balcony and entered the genealogy section. He had traced the Fawley side of the Family to the Saxon Invaders of England but had no such luck tracing them any further. Today however, he wanted to look at what could be found of his classmates. He had spent time before researching Susan, Hannah, and Wayne's lineage, as well as his cousin Ernie McMillan, but that was because he had always assumed they would be together in the same house. He had looked up Malfoy's before and had very little interest in learning more. He knew the family came over from France and had made their money by luck alone, betting on the right side in numerous wars and conflicts.

He went to the far end of the section, filled with tall and imposing bookcases. Everything was sorted alphabetically, so all he had to do was say a name, and the magic would take care of the rest. "Boot," he called out. Sure enough, a set of scrolls followed by a heavy looking manuscript floated off the shelf and towards him. Grabbing the materials, he made his way over to the workstation and opened the tome first. Terry Boot had proven to be his main rival at Hogwarts, and he wanted to know what he could about the snarky Ravenclaw.

"Boot," he muttered to himself as he gazed at some of the records. "Minister of Magic Albert Boot, 1747… failed to put down 18th Century Goblin Rebellion..."

Looking further back he couldn't find another trace of the family in public life until the mid-seventeenth century; Webster Boot. "Webster Boot, co-founder of Ilvermorny, settled back in Scotland with Meghan McDougal, daughter of Martius McDougal, Hogwarts Headmaster… Interesting.."

He flipped the page further. "Dorian Boot, father of Chadwick and Webster, member of Irish Council… wait…"

Edmund continued reading through Terry's line. In truth, he was fascinated by the family, which seemed to jump all over the place, going from Iberia, to Ireland, to the Americas, and finally back to Great Britain. He would never admit it, but the Boot line was filled with distinguished wizards and Terry was, in truth, probably brought up in a very noble fashion.

Sending the Boot family records back, he turned to his other classmates, although admittedly he was most interested in the Greengrass Family. Daphne's family had come over from Greece sometime during the eighteenth century. They came from Athens, where they were descended from one of the Grandmasters of the Hellenic States. He found it all fascinating. He learned that The Puceys were as British as British get, tracing Adrian's great-great-great-grandmother's line to the Cornish in Cornwall. He saw the Weasleys and Prewetts, who had been in Devon for as far back as he could trace. Finally, in a moment of inspiration, he decided to check out the Potters, completely out of curiosity.

When he called out the Potter name however, more scrolls and manuscripts floated down to him then any of his other classmates. It was not as much as the library had on his own family of course, but there was a lot of information about the Potters apparently, which surprised him. He didn't think the family went back that far. Glancing at one of the tomes, he did a double take. His Latin was not perfect, but the tome read _Here Lies A History of the Peverells_. Before he could begin to even think about this development, the door to the section opened up, admitting his mother.

Madam Fawley walked over to the table her son was sitting at before briefly glancing at the book he had been about to open. "The Peverells, dear?" She asked gently. "I didn't know you had progressed to the ancient families."

"I've done the Roscommons, mum," he shrugged, discreetly placing a scroll over the other much newer tome, which bore the Potter Crest. He didn't want anyone else to know of this development.

"They are our own, though, my son," Elodie Fawley sighed. "But no matter. It is all very good that you take an interest in such matters, but I hope you keep in mind that blood purity is an archaic institution that needs not be glorified."

"Of course, mother." Edmund knew he was giving his mother lip service. His time at Hogwarts had shown him the superiority of the Wizarding World and the importance of such lines. He was no Draco Malfoy, but there was something to be said about the pureblood mannerisms that provided order to the House of Slytherin, and he assumed the other houses as well.

"Very well," his mother said. "But I'm afraid you will have to continue your research into the Peverells at a later date, my dear. Dinner will be within the hour followed by mass."

"I'll be right there, mum," Edmund sighed as he sent the books back to the shelf. The mystery of Harry Potter's lineage would have to wait.

* * *

As it turned out, Edmund would not have another chance to visit the library that winter. The family had dinner with the friars and sisters in the Abbey's kitchen and went immediately to the Christmas Vigil Mass led by Michael Fawley. The following morning, they had joined the friars for morning prayer before rushing to Abbot's quarters, where Fr. Fawley had a Christmas tree. Edmund had received a new bible from his great-uncle, a new set of gobstones from the Bones family, a book by his favorite author, Horatio Manfred, _A Murder In Diagon Alley,_ from his grandfather, and a seven year subscription to _The Charms Master_ from his parents. His sister had gotten him a necklace, a steel chain that had looked as if their were small serpents slithering around it, and his brother had gotten him new dragonskin Quidditch gloves. He had gotten Merry tickets to the Weird Sisters Concert that would be taking place during the summer, and for Sullivan a practice quaffle.

From Adrian, Edmund received a Ballycastle Banner with the entire team's signatures, and from Gemma, a subscription to TeenWitch that would last him the remainder of the schoolyear. He quickly hid that from his mother's sight, but not before he caught Merry narrowing her eyes at him. His best friend Martin, in America, ever the historian, sent him a book about Gellert Grindelwald in America. Finally, he got to Daphne's present, which was a Charm Ball, a medium-sized silver ball that was created to practice charming and inanimate transfiguration.

Edmund loved his presents and spent much of the day reading the book on Grindelwald. Martin had a fascination with the dark wizard and had been immensely jealous when he found out that Albus Dumbledore, the only one who had bested him, was the Headmaster of the British School.

The Fawleys stayed at the Abbey for a few more days, not departing until the thirtieth of December. They usually spent the New Years Celebrations with Madam Fawley's family, the Macmillans, in Scotland, but as Edmund had been invited to the Greengrasses, he would be spending the night at Greengrass Manor in Kent while his family stayed at Macmillan Mansion in the city of Aberdeen. It was a win-win for Edmund, who did not want to see Ernie Macmillan, who would undoubtedly be present, and he got to hang out with Daphne and Tracey.

On the morning of December 3st, Edmund walked into the kitchen to find his father seated at the table reading a copy of _The Weekly Watcher._ "Good morning, father," Edmund gave his father a brief hug before sitting at the other end of the table, where Worrow brought him a plate of eggs, bacon, and black pudding.

"Morning, Edmund," Ned folded up the paper with a sigh. "I've been called in to the Ministry for a meeting with Mr. Crouch and the other members of the Delegation. If you can be ready with what you need to go to the Greengrasses within the hour, I'll bring you with me and drop you off in Kent personally.

"Apparate, not floo," he answered his son's unasked question.

An hour later, Edmund was walking with his father through the Ministry. He had packed dress robes, the Grindelwald book, and some spare clothes. His father dropped him off in his office before entering the conference room with his boss, Bartimaeus Crouch, the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. His father, often in Geneva, rarely used his office and it was sparsely decorated. Edmund kept busy reading about Grindelwald's plot to unleash an Obscurial on New York City until his father came out of the Conference Room. Edmund watched his father talk to his boss. Barty Crouch was a fairly well respected man in the International Community, but it was no secret that his father was next in line to succeed Crouch and already did more work as Head of the British Delegation to the ICW than Crouch did as Department Head.

After what looked to be a heated conversation, Edmund put his book away as his father entered the office. "How's lunch at 'Merlin's Staff sound?" Ned asked, referring to a rather high end magical restaurant in London. "Then we can make our way to Kent."

Only fifteen minutes later, father and son were seated in a warm atmosphere of 'Merlin's Staff.' Edmund had ordered a Yorkshire Pudding and a butterbeer and suddenly came to the realization that this was the first time he'd been alone with his father with nothing to his face in over a year. With two older siblings, Edmund often found himself pushed to the wayside, especially when his father became Chief of the Delegation.

Luckily, Ned Fawley had no intention of letting him suffer the awkward silence or suffer it himself. "Are you ready to begin your training with Professor Kettleburn?" he asked.

In truth, Edmund thought that his occlumency meditations had been developing rather well. He had managed to begin to control his nightmares, and they had been subsiding rather quickly. He didn't think that sleeping would be any problem at the Greengrass Manor, tonight. "I am. I am rather excited to master it."

"Excellent. You may not agree with the precaution, but you will always be in the public view due to your last name, and your grandfather and I believe it is important that you are protected in a house that hosts the children of many of your mother's political enemies," his father took a sip of firewhiskey as he finished.

Shocked, Edmund tried to rack his brain for this rationale ever being explained to him. He was prevented from speaking as the waiter placed the meals in front of them. After he left and his father had dug in, he responded. "You think mother's political stances in the Wizengamot will make me a target?"

His father merely shrugged. "At your age? No. But I remember when I was in school and your grandfather was Head of the Aurors. The ministry was not too popular at the time, and yes, I was targeted by students from other houses. I have no doubt you will be able to protect yourself, but I want to give you all the tools available."

Edmund didn't say anything more, electing to eat his pudding instead. His father, never one for too much silence, explained further. "If I did not trust you and your choice of companions, you would not be going to the Greengrass family today," he said sternly. "But I am your father and I want you to have every advantage over others."

Slightly mollified, Edmund muttered a thanks, causing a sharp reprimand from his father for muttering. After lunch, his father paid the bill and they went out into the bustling Diagon Alley. He grabbed his father's outstretched arm and within a moment they were standing on a dirt roadside. The two began walking towards a gate, which opened as they approached. Greengrass Manor stood very stately on the flat fields, and as father and son got closer, the door opened, exiting Daphne and her father, Michael Greengrass.

"Michael," Ned Fawley greeted Daphne's father. "Thank you for allowing Edmund to stay with you tonight."

"Think nothing of it," Mr. Greengrass responded. "I hope you had a good Christmas?"

"We did. We practice the new faith, so we spent the holiday with my uncle who took Holy Orders."

Mr. Greengrass nodded politely and the two talked for a bit longer before Edmund bade his father goodbye and went with Daphne and her father through the doors to Greengrass Manor. Mr. Greengrass departed shortly afterwards to his office, leaving Daphne to show Edmund the House and grounds. Greengrass Manor was not as large as Promenade-on-Finn, but it was still a respectable pureblood home, larger then Macmillan Mansion and Susan's House. Edmund was shown to the guest bedroom right across from Daphne's, and the two passed the Library and the Ballroom, where Daphne's mother and their family's house elf were preparing for the celebration. The Greengrass Manor may not have been as large as the Fawley's, but their grounds were far more extensive. Apparently, the Greengrass ancestors had been farmers, which Edmund knew, but decided that feigning ignorance would be the best course of action. Now, the Greengrass family was involved in agribusiness and trade. Edmund realized that Mr. Greengrass would want to stay in his father's favor as their was no way the family made their money through solely domestic routes.

"Thank you for the present, by the way," Daphne said to him, interrupting his thoughts. "I love it and Astoria was so jealous."

Blushing slightly, Edmund was a bit embarrassed at the fact that her sister seemed to be jealous over his present. He had gotten Daphne an Enchantress Kit. He remembered Merry had gotten one years ago and had loved it, so he placed an owl order for the newest one. It was slightly more expensive than his budget, but he had felt it had been worth it.

"Have you tried it out at all?" he asked.

"Only with my mum casting spells herself," she said. "I can't do much until we get back to school but I'm excited to try it out."

Edmund nodded. "Same with the Charm Ball. I've wanted to try it so badly but neither Merry nor my mum will demonstrate with it."

* * *

Edmund and Daphne spent the rest of the afternoon playing Wizards Chess and Quidditch Outside. As it got nearer to dinner, the Greengrass House Elf, Matty, called them in for dinner. Edmund went up to his room to comb his hair and put on his dress robes. His mother had bought them new for him, insisting that the family colors of red and black be worn. He quickly returned to the parlor adjacent to the dining room, where Mr. Greengrass was sitting in an armchair talking to an older man and woman on the couch. Spotting Edmund lingering in the doorway, he beckoned him over. "I doubt my wife and daughters are ready yet," he chuckled before gesturing to the couple. "Young Master Fawley, may I introduce my parents-in-law, Stuart and Penelope McMasters, who have just returned from a voyage to Africa. Stuart, Penelope, this is Edmund Fawley, he is a good friend of Daphne's."

The man, Daphne's grandfather held out his hand, which Edmund took promptly. "Fawley… I knew your grandfather. Served under him when he was Auror Chief. He still kicking?"

"Very much so, sir, thank you," Edmund responded. His grandfather didn't often talk about his time as Chief of the Aurors, and it appeared that Daphne's grandfather was much younger than his.

"And are you in Slytherin as well, young man?" asked Madam McMasters. "I do remember some Fawleys in my day who were in Hufflepuff."

"Yes, ma'am," Edmund nodded briefly. "I actually believe I'm the first non-Hufflepuff."

Daphne's grandfather looked like he was ready to make another comment about this, but to Edmund's relief, Mrs. Greengrass, Astoria, and Daphne chose that moment to enter the parlor. After hugging her grandparents, Daphne went to stand besides Edmund. "Dinner won't go too long tonight," she whispered. "Both my dad and grandfather like to have some firewhiskey before the guests arrive and they won't drink it at dinner."

Dinner was an enjoyable affair, and it adjourned fairly quickly so that Mrs. Greengrass could prepare to greet the guests. Mr. Greengrass and Mr. McMasters quickly disappeared to the former's study, presumably to have that firewhiskey Daphne mentioned. After about half an hour, guests started to trickle in. Mrs. Greengrass had a system set up like clockwork. Edmund, Daphne and Astoria were to lead guests into the ballroom as she greeted them at the door. Mr. Greengrass and the two grandparents stood in the ballroom and entertained their guests. For the next hour Edmund was introduced to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, as well as the parents of Pansy Parkinson, Parvati and Padma Patil, Helen Runcorn, and Tracey Davis. When he was done, Daphne led him downstairs, to where many of the kids in their year were having their own party. Draco was there, as well as Pansy, the Patil twins, and Helen and Tracey. There were a few others that Edmund didn't know, but he assumed they were friends of Astoria.

Malfoy, who was still friendly to Edmund for all the house points he had gained Slytherin played him in Chess, which he won much to Edmund's annoyance. He played a few rounds of exploding snap, and then Helen got a gobstones tournament running, which Tracey ended up winning handedly. As it grew closer to midnight, the group of first years found themselves talking amongst each other quietly before Tracey, who did not know how to be quiet, spoke up. "Well there are only two boys here so both Edmund and Draco are going to have to pick which girls they want to kiss for New Years."

Edmund and Malfoy looked at each other, both slightly panicked as Pansy and the Patil twins started giggling uncontrollably. "I think we can skip that part this year, Trace," Daphne said firmly.

Tracey, unable to take a hint kept pressing. "But it's tradition. We are all Hogwarts students now."

Helen, taking Daphne's side, shut her down quickly. "Frankly I don't want Malfoy or Fawley near me even if it's just a kiss on the cheek.

No one paid much attention to Malfoy's indignation and the group tried to appease Tracey slightly by all giving each other a hug as the New Year of 1992 began. Shortly afterwards, Families began to trickle out and Astoria, Daphne, and Edmund were back in the main ballroom with the Greengrass parents and Mrs. Greengrass's parents. Mrs. Greengrass took Astoria up to bed while the McMasters and r. Greengrass bid Daphne and Edmund goodnight.

Edmund and Daphne said goodnight and went into their respective rooms. Edmund quickly changed into sleepwear and brushed his teeth in the bathroom down the hall. As he came back into the room from the bathroom, he was startled to see Daphne, already in her pajamas, sitting nervously in the armchair by the bed.

"Am I in the wrong room?" Edmund asked dryly.

"No," Daphne muttered. "I've just been thinking..."

"That may very well be the end of us than," Edmund joked.

Daphne shot him a dirty look. "Prat. That isn't what I meant. I mean... do you think Tracey is right about the kissing on New Years? Did we jinx ourselves?"

Edmund plopped down on his bed, pondering her question. "No, I really don't reckon so," he answered finally. "I think that's nothing but superstition some prat made up to make themselves feel important."

"So it isn't important," Daphne asked, the relief showing on her face.

"Nah," Edmund said, leaning back into the pillow. "I have two older siblings, and I can tell you Tracey is talking way ahead of our age."

"Good," Daphne smiled as she got up. "I better get to sleep before mum finds me. Goodnight, Edmund."

"Goodnight, Daphne."

* * *

 **A/N:** _A bit longer but I wanted to fit the end of the winter holidays in one chapter. It gets slighly complicated because I'm trying to introduce a new character and showcase his rich history while at the same time speeding the story up. I won't be doing any time skips as of now but I am going to make an effort to fit the rest of year 1 into one chapter. Let me know what you all think._


	9. Chapter 9

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **By Elk99**

 **A/N:** _Here is the final Chapter of Year 1. I'll warn you all right now, I changed Quidditch a bit, not the rules but the schedule of games, and I also changed some of the results in the House Cup. I am sorry if this offends some of you but I mean this is a work of fiction under my direction, and I honestly feel that any changes I did make are incredibly small. So there. Anyways, here is the next chapter! Please review to tell me what you think! I answer all reviews privately._

* * *

"Ow! Adrian!" Tracey Davis yelped as she dodged a quaffle the Slytherin Chaser had chucked into their compartment.

"Sorry, Tracey," Adrian Pucey's head stuck into the compartment, not appearing to be that sorry at all. "Theodore can't catch to save his life."

Turning to Edmund, Adrian shot him a grin. "Hiya, Fawley. Practice much Quidditch?"

"I've done enough," Edmund said easily. "Substitutes never actually play either way."

"We'll see," Adrian muttered darkly. "If Bole fails another Potions Class, Professor Snape may be forced to suspend him. Keep yourself in shape."

With that, the Slytherin Chaser departed the compartment. In an effort to prevent another intrusion, Daphne closed the door and latched it before sitting back across from Edmund, who had finished the Grindelwald book over the break and had started _A Murder In Diagon Alley_ on the train ride.

The break had gone by very quickly after New Years. His father had picked him up in the late morning and took him back home in time for lunch. Edmund had spent the remainder of his holiday reading and studying occlumency. His homework had been a breeze and wasn't too worried about it. When he got to the train, he sought out his friends, finding Tracey, Helen, and Blaise in a compartment across from a handful of second-year Slytherins. Daphne eventually joined them, right before the train left the station. Edmund wondered when Blaise had started hanging out with them. He never said much, but gradually had just became one of their group at school.

The second half of the school year went very much as it had gone before. The rivalry between Edmund and Terry Boot had subsided a bit in Transfiguration after Professor McGonagall, tired of dealing with them, partnered them up in a month-long project. He didn't think they would ever be friends – Terry was too suspicious of Slytherins and he was much too proud to forget how quickly the Ravenclaw had turned on him – but they did develop a working relationship and a grudging amount of respect. Edmund hadn't forgotten what he learned about the Boot family, either.

He was happy to know that he still was the best at Charms, and he started working ahead in the subject, with Professor Flitwick's advice and occasional supervision. Potions went by well enough. It wasn't his favorite class, especially as the Gryffindors made it unbearable with their apparent ineptitude and lackadaisical work ethic.

Herbology, was another matter. Both Simon and Sullivan Fawley had excelled in the course, but Edmund found himself sorely lacking in the subject. After talking to Professor Sprout about what he could do to improve his marks, she directed him to one of her best first-year students. It was much to Edmund's surprise that said student was Neville Longbottom.

At their first meeting in the Greenhouses, Neville had been very wary, prepared for the Slytherin to jinx him, but after awhile of hard earned good faith on Edmund's part, the two developed a working relationship, and possibly even a friendship. Neville confided to Edmund about how he faced ridicule from not only Malfoy, but some people in his own House as well. He discussed how his Grandmother and his uncle, a renowned Unspeakable, had set him incredibly high standards that he felt hard pressed to surpass. In a split-second decision, Edmund had sent an owl to his mother. He thought he had an idea on how to help the Gryffindor boy.

The response came at breakfast the next day while Edmund was eating lunch with the Slytherin first years. He quickly pocketed the letter so that Malfoy wouldn't see it. He didn't need his fellow Slytherin to return to his previous attitude about him. He sat through Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and History of Magic barely being able to contain his excitement. Luckily the first years had a break after History of Magic on Thursdays, and Edmund spotted Neville and discreetly pulled him into an empty classroom before the boy joined the rest of his housemates.

"What are you doing, Edmund?" the boy asked fearfully, wondering if his trust in his Slytherin mentee had been severely misplaced.

"Relax, Longbottom," Edmund simply smirked. "I want to repay you."

He waited patiently for Neville to respond, but the boy appeared content to stare at him suspiciously. Finally, he relented. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Have you heard of Herbology Camps?"

"Yes… the Americans run them, and they are ridiculously expensive."

At this, Edmund smiled briefly. "Well I'm going to one over the summer, and my mom knows the director and has arranged for you to go with me."

He could have laughed at the other boy's face, and he almost did had he not wanted to make him think it was a joke. "All expenses paid," he added as an afterthought.

"H-H-How?" Neville managed to stammer out. "Why me?"

"Well, Professor Quirrell," Edmund said with a raised eyebrow, "You deserve to go to a world renowned Herbology Camp, and I'll help you with the Potions aspect if you help me with the plants part."

It was evident that Neville was overwhelmed. Finally, he spoke up again. "I – I need to ask my gran.. but yes, yes, yes," the boy rushed off the owlery excitedly, leaving Edmund with a small smile on his face.

"That was a good thing you did."

Edmund spun around to see Gemma Farley come from behind one of the large bookcases in the room. "How did you get in here?" he asked incredulously.

"I've been here, Fawley," she responded easily. "As a matter of fact, I'm meeting someone here in a few minutes, so I'd greatly appreciate it if you could bugger off."

Taking the hint, he made his way to the door. As he was about to exit, Gemma called out to him again. "I'm serious Edmund. It was."

Just grinning, he walked out of the room, almost running into Gabriel Truman, the fifth-year prefect from Ravenclaw. In a moment of devious inspiration, he gave a cheeky grin to the older boy. "Your turn," he grinned, scampering away, leaving the Ravenclaw disconcerted and bewildered. Gemma would have his hide.

* * *

With studying with Neville and his Slytherin friends – separately of course – and talking to Gemma (who did in fact skin him alive before collapsing in giggles over his treatment of her date), Edmund kept an incredibly full schedule with practicing his occlumency and training with the Quidditch Team. Occlumency was becoming easier and easier, Professor Kettleburn was taking longer and longer to break down his barriers, unlike the first time, when Edmund had been sent back to his Common Room exhausted after five minutes of trying to defend against the grizzled Care of Magical Creatures Professor.

Professor Silvanus Kettleburn was one of the longest serving Professor at Hogwarts, being only a few years younger than Dumbledore, and lacked both legs and his left arm, yet he was an exceptionally powerful Wizard, who used a Charmed Wheelchair to get around the castle and the grounds. The grizzled Professor had wasted no time and spared no pleasantries on Edmund's first lesson, diving into his mind the second he entered the room. Edmund barely had time to push up his defenses, but the Professor penetrated his defenses easily. He didn't cut through them like a knife as his Grandfather had done, rather swung at it in controlled bursts like a mace. Within a few minutes, Edmund was on the floor gasping for breath.

"You'll need to do better than that!" Kettleburn told him, "And don't ye be coming back here until you have some backbone in ya."

Edmund had returned the next Friday afternoon more prepared but was still no match for the Professor. He kept coming back week after week, and his barriers were strengthening slowly but surely. He pushed himself extra hard, determined to block Kettleburn from his mind. His grandfather's warning to protect their family secrets came to mind frequently, and he knew it was out of respect for his friend that Silvanus Kettleburn did not delve into that area. He now knew many of his other secrets though, and that infuriated Edmund.

The rest of his energy, he expended on the Quidditch Pitch. Adrian's warning about Bole had ended up being correct, and Flint had to put him on the team after Slytherin narrowly beat Ravenclaw. They were training of course, to beat the Hufflepuff team, a game which would decide which team went to the Final Match against Gryffindor. The match against Hufflepuff was approaching quickly and Flint's training, with his studies and occlumency had left him with little energy for anything else. He had noticed his sister gave him worrying glances in the Great Hall, but he had managed to avoid her for the past week. Unfortunately for him, Gemma and Daphne had also noticed the strain and they were a bit harder to avoid.

"I'm fine, honestly," he protested to Gemma, who had cornered him in the Common Room one morning as he was about to make his way to the Library before breakfast. "Really it's just the Quidditch."

"That's a load of bull, Fawley and everyone knows it," Gemma said to him sternly. "You can keep your secrets, but you need to lay off the pitch for awhile or you'll be too exhausted for the match. It's embarrassing when I have both Greengrass and the Head Girl asking me to talk to you about this."

"They don't und-"

"No, I don't want to hear it," Gemma snapped at him, somewhat peevishly. Your sister is the Head Girl and she officially brought this up, during a prefect meeting, which means it goes on record, which isn't something the Slytherin Prefects like to see. And Daphne is your best friend, you ought to try talking to her at the very least."

Edmund watched silently as Gemma left the Common Room. He knew she was right, that he was putting too much into everything. He was making leaps and bounds in occlumency; he could afford to cut back on it a bit, but he also felt he owed Daphne an explanation. They were friends, so it was only right she knew. He moved into one of the corner tables in the Common Room. Daphne and Tracey would come down in a few minutes. He decided to tell them both, as maintaining a friendship with Tracey gave him access to the Hogwarts rumor mill and wouldn't be starting rumors about him.

Sure enough after a few moments, Daphne came out of the corridor, followed by Tracey. Making eye contact, she made her way to his table, concern etched on her face. "Did Gemma talk to you?" she asked.

"Yes, and I'd like to apologize for my behavior," he started off saying, ignoring the brief look of shock on his friend's face. "I'd like to talk to you both though, privately."

The two girls nodded, quietly, and Edmund continued in a whisper. "My grandfather is training me in Occlumency."

"Occlu-what?" Tracey asked incredulously.

"Occlumency," he answered. "It is a branch of mind magic which protects the mind from intrusion."

"That is so cool," she said as she put her black hair back in a pony tail. "Why are you learning it? Is your grandfather here at Hogwarts? What do you have to do? Is it rather difficult?"

Daphne, who hadn't said anything until this point, finally responded. "That is why you are so tired all the time isn't it? It isn't just Quidditch."

Edmund nodded to her before answering Tracey's question. "My grandfather is overseeing the training, but as he isn't at Hogwarts, Professor Kettleburn, who is a personal friend of his, is testing me weekly."

Daphne eyed him critically as Tracey asked again. "That is so cool, but why?"

"Because his family can't afford someone like Malfoy learning their secrets," she spoke up. "Edmund's mother and Draco's father are on opposite sides of the Wizengamot, and his father is renowned internationally. He's too important and in a house filled with potential threats."

Edmund fidgeted uncomfortably as realization dawned on Tracey's face. This was the most awkward part of telling his friends. That his family distrusted members of his own house.

"You didn't want to tell us for fear of offending us?" Daphne asked him.

"Well... more or less," he affirmed.

The two girls just stared at him blankly for a time before smiles broke onto their face. "Prat," Daphne punched his arm as Tracey giggled. "We fully understand and neither of us are offended."

"Really?" Edmund was surprised.

"Of course, really," Tracey shook her head in amusement. "You aren't the only one with Parents in politics here."

"In the meantime," Daphne said. "You need to take it easier in Occlumency and Quidditch. Tracey and I can help with your assignments, but you still need to go easier on yourself."

Edmund nodded his agreement before standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Thanks," he whispered, still somewhat shocked at how well they had taken it.

"Come on," Daphne said standing up as well. "Let's get to breakfast."

Together, the three friends made their way to out of the Common Room, Edmund feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

* * *

The week of the Hufflepuff-Slytherin Quidditch match had came at last. It was the last match of the season and would determine the winner of the Quidditch Cup. If Slytherin could beat Hufflepuff by a large enough margin, they would win the Cup. Marcus Flint, recognizing that he had worked his team to hell and back, had stopped all practices for the remainder of the week, and instead was hosting 'strategy sessions' where he went over plays and tactics the Hufflepuffs favored and that they would need to respond to. Slytherin had won the Cup last year in a nail biter against Hufflepuff and were looking to pull another one over on the badgers. The problem was that Slytherin had lost a Chaser and a Seeker, while Hufflepuff had all their players from the year before. Terrence Higgs was a good seeker, but he wasn't on par with his predecessor, and certainly not Cedric Diggory.

The next factors Flint had to weigh were the Fawley brothers. Sullivan Fawley was an amazing Keeper Slytherin hardly scored against him last year, relying on their seeker to catch the snitch before Diggory in what had been a nail-biting, neck and neck race. Slytherin was also down one of their beaters, and now having to rely on their reserve, who just so happened to be Sullivan Fawley's little brother. Still, for a first year, Flint had been impressed with Fawley's accuracy as a beater and had been up day and night developing a new playbook to combat the favored Hufflepuff.

It was in one of these sessions, that Edmund found himself in in the Slytherin locker rooms off the pitch. They may not have been practicing, but Flint still insisted on using the locker room over an empty classroom. "Higgs," the burly Captain addressed the slender seeker, "You need to stay on Diggory's tail. If he goes for it, you better be going for it too."

"Derrick," he turned to the half-asleep Slytherin beater, you and Fawley are going to do a back and forth pass set down the Quidditch pitch alongside Pucey with the Quaffle. He's going to drop down right before he shoots, and you need to pass the bludger to Fawley who is going to hit the blasted thing towards his brother. The bludger will be followed by the Quaffle. The keeper won't be able to get back to the hoop in time. Warrington and I will stay mid-pitch in case Pucey is intercepted."

The team nodded their understanding. Diggory and Sullivan Fawley were the best players on the team hands down, and both Derrick and Edmund would have to work overtime to sidetrack Diggory and allow their chasers an opening to score the quaffle. It was a lot of pressure that Edmund didn't particularly want, especially as a substitute, but his occlumency progress had helped him remain calm and keep his demeanor cool and composed.

The match was held on a warm Saturday in April. Edmund di his best to keep his nerves down as he put his emerald green robes on over the green sweater and white pants. He had received a letter from his parents yesterday, telling him that they would be at the match with his Grandfather and the Diggorys. There was no occlumency in the world that could stop the anxiety of knowing his family of Hufflepuffs would be at the match, most likely hoping Sullivan would win.

Flint led the team into the Great Hall at eight sharp for breakfast to boos from the Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sections, yet the Slytherins made up for it with raucous cheers and whoops as the team sat down at the end of the table closest to the doors. Edmund did his best to avoid looking at the other tables, specifically the Hufflepuffs as he shoved down some bacon and eggs. The team made quick work of their breakfast, and Flint got up to take the team to the lockers right as Edmund finished his pumpkin juice.

Daphne gave him a brief hug before he left, Tracey wished him well, and Gemma and Theodore both came over to pat him on the back as he marched out with the Slytherin team. The Hufflepuff team had only sat down a few moments ago, and Flint liked to showcase his team as the most disciplined of them all. It was all part of the intimidation factor he would say.

When they got down to the pitch they took a few laps together, getting the feel of their brooms once again. Terrence Higgs flew separately higher up to get a feel of the wind and the direction of the sun he would need to keep track of while searching for the snitch. Edmund was riding Bole's Comet 800, which was a decent broom, not like the Nimbus he had at home, but it would do the trick no problem. He didn't need his broom to be as fast as he needed it to be maneuverable. If he could turn quickly, his bat would do the rest of the work.

Flint led them in a maneuver as people began filing into the stands and then into the locker room. The team members were silent. They had lost to Gryffindor. They weren't losing to Hufflepuff. Flint took one last look at his playbook before placing it in a lockbox – the key to which he kept around his neck during matches. No one was stealing the Slytherin Captain's playbook while he was in the air.

"Well, men," he started. "This is it. We are the best team, and we know it. We play hard, and we do what it takes to win. No other house has our guts, our will to win."

Edmund heard the roar of the crowd outside. The Hufflepuff team must have entered the pitch. Lee Jordan's voice was barely audible from here with the crowd's noise level. Eventually realizing he hadn't been paying attention, he tuned back in to Flint, who was finishing up his talk.

"Higgs, fly high, Fawley and Derrick, hammer those guys. Put them into the ground." Flint paused for a moment. "We are the defending Champions. If we lose, we'll be branded as the team that lost the Quidditch Cup."

With that, Flint grabbed his broomstick and made his way out of the locker room. The team followed him, Edmund doing his best to squash the butterflies in his stomach. The team lined up and kicked off as Lee Jordan began his commentating.

"And here comes the Slytherins!" Jordan yelled. "FLINT, WARRINGTON, PUCEY, DERRICK, FAWLEY, BLETCHLEY, and HIGGS!"

The team flew out in the order they had been called and did a fast lap of the pitch together. The familiar one-fourth of the school was cheering raucously, extra loud to combat the remaining thirds that were booing. Out of the corner of his eye, Edmund could see his Grandfather and Parents in the Headmasters Tower with Dumbledore and the heads of Houses. A few of the other school Governors a part from Simon Fawley also appeared to be there. Turning his focus back to the game, Edmund grabbed his bat tighter as he watched Flint walk up to Madam Hooch with the Hufflepuff Captain, Dwayne Dwyer. Hooch warned them about fair play, before allowing the two Captains to take their position. Within a moment, Madam Hooch had thrown up the quaffle and the game was underway, and so was Lee Jordan's commentating.

"AND HUFFLEPUFF TAKES POSSESSION WITH DWYER LEADING WITH THE QUAFFLE! HE PASSES IT TO FARROW! FARROW DODGES TO AVOID A BLUDGER FROM DERRICK, HE SWERVES, HE IS GOING TO SHOOT! OH NO! BLUDGER FROM FAWLEY SMASHES THE QUAFFLE RIGHT OUT OF HIS HAND IN A STUNNING DISPLAY OF ACCURACY!"

Edmund grinned as he spun around on the broom to go after the bludger again. "Nice one Fawley!" Flint shouted out as he zipped by, now in possession of the Quaffle. He flew over to the opposite end of the pitch and readied his bat when suddenly he heard the crowd gasp. Looking up, he saw Cedric Diggory racing downwards. Higgs was at the other side of the field and obviously didn't see what the Hufflepuff seeker had seen.

"DIGGORY HAS SEEN THE SNITCH!"

Higgs would not be able to beat Cedric to the snitch, he knew that very well, and they were too high up for the Chasers to make a difference. Edmund raced to an approaching bludger. If he timed it right….

SLAM

"ANOTHER DIRECT HIT BY FAWLEY RIGHT INTO DIGGORY'S SOLAR PLEXUS! WHY THAT DI-"

"JORDAN!"

Madam Hooch called time. "Fawley," she called, "Intentional direct hits are a foul on school rules!"

Luckily Flint came to his rescue. "Madam Hooch! He was yards away he couldn't possibly have judged the distance and speech!"

The Hufflepuff Captain also flew over and started arguing with Flint. He was glad Flint was arguing the case for him. In reality he had judged the blow perfectly, but if Flint wanted to rule it out to beginner's luck, or misfortune in the Huflfepuff's case, he was alright with that."

Finally, Madam Hooch made a ruling. "NO FOUL!"

Play resumed as she blew her whistle. Adrian Pucey got passed the quaffle, feinted, passed it to Warrington who chucked it into the left goal post.

"SLYTHERIN SCORES," Lee Jordan called out a little less enthusiastically.

The game went on, but while the Slytherin Chasers were much better than the Hufflepuffs, it was clear that Sullivan Fawley far surpassed the skills of Marcus Bletchely as Keeper. After an hour of intense play, Hufflepuff had tied the game but were pulling away from Slytherin, 60-60.

After another quaffe went in, giving Hufflepuff another ten points, Flint screamed at the two beaters. "Plan B, Plan B!"

Derrick and Edmund immediately fell into a formation behind Adrian Pucey. Flint made it clear that they had to win by 150 points, so keeping the score tied was essential, so what they were about to attempt was incredibly difficult. They had to control a bludger all the way across the pitch. They began to spread out further. Edmund was the first one to get near a Bludger that was sent towards Adrian by one of the Hufflepuff Beaters. Edmund batted it across the pitch to Derrick who hit it back to Edmund. At this time Adrian dropped down. Sullivan had no idea what was happening. Edmund slammed hios bat as hard as he could against the bludger from Derrick. It hurtled towards Sullivan incredibly fast, so fast that he had to duck and duck fast. As soon as the bludger blew past him, Adrian threw the quaffle and it sailed into the center hoop before the older Fawley even realized what happened.

"AND SLYTHERIN SCORES, TIEING THE GAME SEVENTY TO SEVENTY AFTER EDMUND FAWLEY LAUNCHED A BLUDGER ALMOST UNSEATING HIS OLDER BROTHER WH- WAIT.. I THINK HIGGS HAS SEEN THE SNITCH!"

Sure enough, Terrence Higgs was swooping downwards, arms outstretched to catch the snitch. Diggory was right behind him and gaining. Knowing he wouldn't get a good angle to launch a bludger at the Hufflepuff Seeker, he signaled Derrick and then flew up to meet one of the Bludgers coming towards him. He batted it to Derrick who sent it hurtling towards Diggory, who swerved to avoid it, costing him precious seconds that he needed to catch up with Higgs.

"AND TERRENCE HIGGS HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH. SLYTHERIN WINS 220-70," Lee Jordan may have been an excellent commentator, but the bias in his commentating was always quite evident. "SLYTHERIN AND GRYFFINDOR ARE NOW TIED FOR THE CUP, AND WILL GO ON TO PLAY THE TIEBREAKER NEXT MONTH."

The Slytherin team had converged on Terrence Higgs, who still had a look of disbelief on his face as he clutched the snitch in his hands. Flint was so happy. "Fawley!" He yelled over the din. "We are throwing you and Higgs a party tonight! First years aren't normally allowed but you played like a man today!"

Edmund felt a wave of euphoria at the praise. They had won. They had beaten Hufflepuff. Looking towards the Slytherin section he could see Daphne, Tracey, Helen, Blaise, Theodore and even Gemma were cheering loudly. Looking up to the Headmaster's stands he could see his family, his father was in a whispered and heated conversation with Mr. Diggory, but his mother waved to him with a wan smile on her face. His grandfather however, was smiling broadly, and laughing. Looking at Edmund, he kissed what he assumed to be one of the signet rings and pumped his fist into the air. So happy was he, that even if he had noticed his brother's murderous look as the Hufflepuff team filed off the pitch, he wouldn't have cared.

Many of the Slytherins made their way to the dungeons from the locker room, but Edmund headed to the Entrance Hall where he knew his family would be waiting. As he got there, he saw Sullivan stalking off, Merry on his heels. Turning his attention towards the doors, he saw his family waiting there for him along with a few other parents who had come to watch the game. Making his way over, he gave his mother a hug. "Hello, mum, dad, grandfather," he said to each of them. "Edmund John Fawley," Simon Fawley said to his grandson sternly, before pausing and breaking into a smile. "From a former beater to a current one, that was some exceptional beating, lad!"

Edmund smiled as he hugged his grandfather. "Thank you, sir."

"Yes, it was," Ned Fawley agreed. "I must warn you I will always root for my own House team, but that was very well played."

"Such an impressive use of the _Adolar Attack_ ," his grandfather marveled, referring to the play he, Derrick, and Adrian had pulled off before Higgs caught the snitch. "I don't think I've ever seen that used successfully since it was created!"

Edmund talked to his parents and grandfather a bit longer before bidding them goodbye to go back to the dungeons. As he was leaving, Ned Fawley looked at his wife and father. "It is so odd, still... seeing him in green and heading left rather than right..."

Elodie Fawley gave her husband a wan smile. "A bit, yes," she began. "But he seems happy and that is what's important."

"Aye," Simon Fawley said. "He has found his place away from his siblings' shadow."

* * *

The party in the Slytherin dungeons that night was an experience completely foreign to Edmund and many of the first years, although Draco Malfoy did his best to appear completely unfazed by it. Edmund was awarded a seat of honor with the rest of the Quidditch team, although Gemma and Cain Wesley had intervened before either he or Adrian could have anything from the flasks the older years were passing around. Much to Adrian's dismay, Cain and Henry Keating sent both of them up to bed when it started getting late and too 'raucus' in the Seventh Year Prefect's words, although Edmund suspected he meant something else. He didn't mind as much, he had told Adrian, especially since Gemma had sent the other first and second years to bed an hour prior.

The next day when Edmund awoke, the only people still sleeping were Vincent and Greg. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept later than anyone in his year. Checking his watch, he saw that it was almost 11:00 in the morning. Quickly he showered and changed his clothes, having fallen asleep in his Quidditch Robes the night before. By the time he arrived at the Great Hall, it was quarter until noon, an acceptable time to sit at the Slytherin table and wait for breakfast. Daphne and Tracey were there doing homework as he sat down across from them.

"Ah the returning hero," Tracey teased. "He awakens at last."

"Yes, our fierce warrior," affirmed Daphne, catching on to the joke. "Revered and feared for his legendary ability to swing a bat."

"Alright, alright," Edmund said tiredly. "Your hero is ready to eat and revise."

"Good," Tracey told him seriously as she turned her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells_ to him. "I need help revising for Charms."

The revision season seemed to pass by relatively easily. Professor Snape had lifted Bole's Quidditch suspension, so Edmund no longer had Quidditch practice, although Adrian had told him privately that the team was very divided about his return at Edmund's expense. Edmund put the extra time into working with Neville, helping him with Potions while the Gryffindor helped him with Herbology. Neville's grandmother had given him permission to go to the Herbology Camp with Edmund over the summer and the two became closer as the revised and made plans for their summers. For the rest of his subjects, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Astronomy, he studied with Daphne and Tracey.

He also continued to work on his occlumency and without Quidditch practice, realized he had far more energy and eventually one day managed to expel Professor Kettleburn from his mind. At the end of it, he still ended up on the floor, but the Professor was also gasping for breath. "Well done," the old man almost growled. "Now let's see if you can keep it up!"

Exams finally swung around right as the weather grew nice and warm and students began to have cabin fever. The first and second years were some of the first done with their exams, and Edmund felt that he had passed his with flying colors. History of Magic had been his last exam, and the first year Slytherins had bolted from professor Binns' classroom and out onto the Hogwarts grounds. It felt good to relax at last.

The following day however proved that at Hogwarts, nothing was relaxing for too long. The rumors were in full swing at Breakfast that Harry Potter was in the Hospital Wing after slaying a chimera that had been controlled by Professor Quirrell. He didn't quite believe that story, and Gemma later told him and Daphne that their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor had attempted to bring back the Dark Lord and that Harry Potter had stopped him. The staff tried to keep it under wraps, but this was Hogwarts, and naturally everyone found out the real story.

Slytherin's victory over Hufflepuff had placed it in the lead for the House Cup, and with Potter in the Hospital Wing, Gryffindor played the Championship tiebreaker with a substitute seeker, a boy named Cormac McLaggen who had neither the aptitude nor the build to play that position. Slytherin won handedly. Edmund watched from the stands and was later informed by Adrian that Marcus Flint had insisted that Professor Dumbledore put his name next to Bole's on the Plaque and Trophy, the former which would go to the Trophy room to be put on display for years to come while the Trophy went to Professor Snape's office.

The Slytherins were ending the year on a high note, and Edmund was happy that he had contributed to it. At the Leaving Feast however, Professor Dumbledore had other ideas, and in a last-minute smatter of points, to Granger, Weasley, Potter, and Longbottom, Gryffindor took the House Cup by ten points. Edmund couldn't help but skulk with the rest of his housemates as the rest of the school, including notably, his brother, the end of the Slytherin streak of winning the House Cup. No one was as infuriated as Cain Wesley however, who sat next to Edmund and Gemma cursing so loudly had any of the staff been able to hear him, would've enchanted a gag to his mouth. Three of the people who in one night, had lost Gryffindor 150 points, had managed to get them back at the last minute.

The final standings stood with Ravenclaw in fourth place with 426 points. Hufflepuff in Third with 470 points. Slytherin had 472 points, narrowly taking Second Place, while Gryffindor took first with 482 points.

On the train ride back the next day, Edmund was in a compartment with Daphne, Tracey, Helen, Adrian, Theodore, and Blaise. After several minutes of bashing Harry Potter and the blatant favoritism shon to the Gryffindors, the group moved on to games of exploding Snape, and Tracey brought out _Debates of a Magical Society_.

Wanting to escape the chaos of the compartment if for a few moments, Edmund excused himself and went for a walk down towards the back of the train. As he was approaching the back, Neville Longbottom walked out of the W.C.

"Edmund," he greeted.

"Longbottom," Edmund acknowledged. "May I write to you this summer? Perhaps my mum can meet with your grandmother later this week?"

"I'm sure she'd like that," the Gryffindor said with a smile. "And Fawley?"

"Yes?" Edmund asked, surprised there was anything more to be said.

"Thank you for this year," Neville said. "You didn't have to, but you reached out to me when not may would. You may not think it matters… but it does."

With that Neville Longbottom walked back down the aisle until he reached the compartment he had been in, leaving behind a very stunned Edmund Fawley, and an equally stunned Harry Potter behind them.

* * *

 **A/N:** _So that is first year ended. I haven't decided yet whether I want the summer to be two or three chapters, but it is a very important time for Fawley's character development and relationship with Neville._

 _I hope the small changes I made didn't offend anyone, but I'm also not in the business of pleasing everyone. Please review! And thank you to all of you who have been supporting me thus far._


	10. Chapter 10

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **By elk99**

 **A/N:** _So here is chapter 10, it's a bit fluffy but I do think it is important in creating the foundation and expanding on the Wizarding World. This chapter looks at the Wizaridng World from a very International Mindset of the Fawley family, as well as further develops Edmund's relationships with Daphne and Tracey and Neville, as well as his occlumency. Once again, anything recognizable belongs to madam Rowling._

* * *

"This isn't fair, really," complained a certain Daphne Greengrass as she plopped down on the grass under the Blackthorn trees. "All I'll have to talk to for a month is Astoria!"

Her two friends shared a grin as they sat down next to her. "Don't forget that you'll be going to Greece during that time," said Tracey Davis, a typically bubbly brunette who had been friends with Daphne since they could walk.

"That's for a week," the blonde-haired Daphne retorted. "And its still just me and Astoria."

Edmund Fawley watched amusedly as Tracey attempted to console their friend. Normally it was the other way around, Daphne being the logical and centered of the two, but with Tracey going on a world tour with her family for the summer and him going to one of the American Herbology Camps, Daphne was feeling a bit left out. He leaned back against the Blackhorn Tree facing the Fawley Manor, Promenade-on-Finn, admiring the surroundings. It was a beautiful summer day with clear skies, and he thought he had seen a few field nymphs flitting about. It had been two weeks since Hogwarts had let out for the year, and the three friends had spent a great deal of time together at their respective houses. Tomorrow, Tracey would be leaving, heading first to France on the first stop of their tour. He was leaving a few days later, with Neville Longbottom to go to the Alleghany Magical Forest of Pennsylvania.

"Imagine how we must sound to our classmates," he chuckled dryly. "Complaining about only spending a week in Greece with only our family of all things!"

Tracey snickered as Daphne punched Edmund in the arm. "Prat," she laughed with the other two. "If you had to live with Astoria you'd understand."

"Right," Edmund rolled his eyes. "I forgot I don't know what it's like to have siblings when one of them smothers and the other hates me!"

"How is Meredith, by the way?" Daphne asked. "The immensely popular Head Girl, even among the Slytherins, had just finished her last year at Hogwarts with top marks and had been offered numerous jobs in the Ministry and amongst private Potion Brewers and Apothecaries. Instead, she was choosing to pursue a Master in Potions, studying under one of the most celebrated and talented Masters in the world.

"She's well," Edmund rolled his eyes. "She's leaving for Berlin tomorrow to study under Rugar Vitoff."

Whistling appreciatively in a way most unbecoming of a pureblood lady, Daphne was impressed. Her father, who dealt in trade had discussed how expensive Vitoff Potions were. They were said to be the best money could buy. The Master had been educated at Koldovstoretz and had only taken an apprentice once before.

Naturally, the entire Fawley family was immensely proud of the Golden Girl, Meredith Fawley, Head Girl, second in her class at Hogwarts. Edmund wasn't as annoyed with her success as he was with her constant need to see if he was okay. Before he had came to Hogwarts, she had hardly given him the time of day. Once he was sorted into Slytherin he couldn't be rid of her.

His brother was a different story. Things had been rocky between him and Sullivan Fawley since his sorting. Sullivan, the scion of the family and star Quidditch Keeper with ambitions to play professionally couldn't get over the fact that his little brother was sorted into Slytherin, the first and only non-Hufflepuff in the family since anyone could remember. The final nail in the coffin was when Edmund, a substitute beater for his House Quidditch Team had helped lead them to a victory against Hufflepuff, allowing them a chance at the Quidditch Cup, which they managed to keep from Gryffindor only by sheer luck. Sullivan had hardly talked to him since that match, and Edmund knew why. He had listened all summer to his brother explaining how that year had been the year Hufflepuff would finally win the Quidditch Cup again. He knew it must sting to have the shot taken away, by one's little brother of all people.

Since they had gotten home, Sullivan had chosen not to talk to Edmund, and that suited him just fine. Both Merry and Madam Fawley had gone to great lengths to reconcile the two brothers to no avail. At the moment there was just too much animosity between them, and Edmund was fine leaving well enough alone for the time. He and Sullivan would have plenty of separation. His brother had organized a Quidditch League among some classmates and would be relatively busy during the summer.

"Do you think people notice?" Tracey asked hesitantly. "About our money?"

Edmund and Daphne looked at each other in confusion. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked her friend.

"You made that joke about money," Tracey clarified. "Do you think people notice?"

Daphne still looked confused by Edmund realized what Tracey was trying to ask. Apart from Malfoy, Terry Boot and Ernie Macmillan, he, Tracey and Daphne were some of the wealthiest students in their year. The Davis family were incredibly rich, but he knew from his father that they were considered 'new money' and were much less comfortable with their wealth than old money families such as the Fawleys and Greengrasses.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Tracey," he assured her. "No one can think bad of us while Draco Malfoy continues to strut around as if he owned us all."

The three of them laughed at their pompous fellow Slytherin. Neither of the girls knew it, but Edmund had been instrumental in knocking Malfoy down a few pegs in first year. Taken advice from one of the prefects, Gemma Farley, he managed to get Draco in trouble for lying to the faculty and trespassing in the third-floor corridor which had been labeled as out of bounds by the Headmaster.

"I wish we could all stay like this forever," Tracey said wistfully stretching back.

"Shhhh, don't let Daphne hear you say that," Edmund whispered conspiratorially. "She may try to grant it."

Daphne was denied a retort however by the appearance of Worrow, the Fawley family's house elf. "Mistress Tracey's mother be at the gate with Master Ned asking for Mistress Tracey, Young Master," she squeaked.

"Thanks, Worrow," he sighed as the House Elf bowed and disappeared. The three friends got up and began walking towards the main gate of Promenade-On-Finn. The Prom was long, and they had gone far from the house, so the gate was quite a walk away.

"You'll both write to me, won't you?" She asked anxiously.

"Of course," Daphne assured her friend, gripping her tightly in a hug. "I'll be bored out of my mind!"

"Have a safe trip, Trace," Edmund gave her a brief hug.

The three friends walked out of the gate, where Edmund's father, Ned Fawley, and Tracey's mother were waiting. Viola Davis was a tall and slender woman, and it was obvious to all that her daughter was almost an exact replica of her. "Edmund, Daphne!" she exclaimed as she caught them in a strangling embrace. "It's good to see you both!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Davis," Edmund was the first to recover, and doing his best to maintain his propriety while his father was watching. "Please do enjoy your trip."

"Oh we will, don't worry," her eyes twinkled. "Thank you once again, Ned," she thanked Edmund's father as she led Tracey to the floo.

After they were gone, Ned Fawley returned to the House while Daphne and Edmund made their way back to the Blackthorn Trees.

"So are you going to fill me in on Neville Longbottom?" she asked him.

"What about him?" Edmund asked with an eyebrow raised. He hadn't thought he had let any hints about his summer plans slip out.

"You are forgetting my grandparents run in the same circles as his grandmother," she responded. "I know he is going to America with you. I wasn't aware you knew him."

Knowing he had been caught red handed, Edmund explained how Professor Sprout had paired him with Neville for tutoring, and how the two had slowly became friends throughout the second half of their first year. Daphne's brow furrowed as he continued.

"So, he's going to improve his potions skills while I'm going to figure out Herbology," Edmund finished. "It's an academic relationship."

"But he's a Gryffindor, and Malfoy hates him," Daphne objected. "I thought you shared his views."

This was a tough one. Born and raised a pureblood, Edmund was familiar with the culture, the history, the traditions, and the society. He was also raised by a family that while still pure, championed the rights of muggleborns as much as Albus Dumbledore. However, his own experience with some of the muggleborns at Hogwarts had shown him how ill-mannered muggles were as a society.

"Certain things, Malfoy says," he began carefully, mulling over every word, "Are valid, such as blood does indeed matter. Which is why I see no problem befriending Neville. He is a pureblood, and his family has been pure much longer than the Malfoy family. They have not been branded as blood traitors. Yes, he is a bit awkward and out of place, but you should hear him talk about Herbology. He's really rather smart if you listen. He isn't the strongest magically that's true, but he could just be late, he wouldn't have gotten into Hogwarts if he was a squib so I think it's safe to say he's just late. And potions? Well that could be nerves, and the fact that he is surrounded by complete idiots like Finnegan and Weasley."

Daphne thought about that for a while. 'You're right," she conceded. "But he is still a Gryffindor."

"I know," Edmund grimaced, standing up. "Which is why you aren't going to say anything to anyone. Now come on!" he held out his hand. "I want to fly for a bit."

* * *

Daphne left later that night after dinner with the Fawley family before being picked up by her mother, Aurora Greengrass. "Please write to me," Daphne asked him as she gave him a hug.

"Of course," he said, a bit bemusedly. "Why wouldn't I?"

Daphne just smiled before heading off to the floo with her mother, while Edmund headed back to the house.

The next morning, the family was seeing Merry off to Berlin, where she would begin her studies under Master Vitoff. Many of her friends had the rest of the summer before they began their new careers. Stephanie, who was with the Fawley crew as they went to the Ministry, would be starting her job with the British and Irish Quidditch League in early August.

As they entered the Atrium of the Ministry, Edmund gave his wand to one of the sentrys at the station. The guard, after measuring and examining his wand, handed him a small badge. _Edmund John Fawley_ it read. _Portkey Departures, Level 6_. The six Fawleys and Stephanie walked across the floor of the Atrium. The gilded Fountain of Magical Brethren was sprouting colored water today, with pink and blue streams clashing and eventually mixing at the base of the basin. The giant tapestry featuring the Minister, Cornelius Fudge stared down at the milling wizards and witches underfoot. Edmund had never met the new Minister, but he was only in his second year at the post. Fudge's predecessor, Millicent Bagnold was a friend of his Grandfather's and he had met her many times.

Edmund's father led the group into one of the lifts. "Level Six," he told the Bellman. Right before the gates could close, a red-faced and red-haired wizard practically bolted into the compartment, squeezing in.

"Level 3, please," the man gasped, still catching his breath as the doors closed and the lift zoomed off in what seemed to Edmund like every direction at once. Turning around, the red-haired wizard nodded to Mister Fawley. "Morning , Ned," he said. "Terribly sorry to delay you."

"Not a problem, Arthur," Edmund's father said congenially.

"That was Arthur Weasley," Edmund heard his father mutter to his Grandfather after the lift had deposited the harried Wizard on Level Two. "His son, Bill, does very well for himself as a Cursebreaker, and one of his sons, Charlie just left to tame dragons in Romania."

Finally, the lift stopped at Level Six, where the Department of Magical Transportation was located. "Morning, Fawleys!" A cheery wizard waved the family over. "Good to see you, good to see you!"

Ted Tonks had played on the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team with Ned Fawley, and the two had kept in touch over the years, especially as they began working together when it came to International Transportation routes. A big-bellied man, Mr. Tonks had a heart of gold, and had always cracked the children up with a joke or two when they were with their father at the Ministry.

"How are you, Ted?" Mr. Fawley asked.

"I'm well, I'm well," he waved off the question. "Everything has been running smoothly since your boys got that Portkey Centralization bill passed the Wizengamot. Not had a single problem since."

"Excellent," Ned smiled. "Now my daughter Meredith has a portkey taking her to Berlin soon. She has been accepted by Master Ruger Vitoff to study advanced potions and alchemy."

At this, Mr. Tonks flashed a brilliant smile. "Well done, lass. I always knew you'd make us proud! Come now, let's get to the Portkey Chamber."

The family and Stephanie followed Mr. Tonks down a wide corridor filled with people coming to and from everywhere. Eventually, the hall split, one saying "Home" and the other, "Foreign." Taking the left, they were led down to the Foreign Portkey Office, where Merry would start her journey with Ruger Vitoff. A Watch Wizard with the office of International Magical Cooperation was waiting at the end of the hall, but upon seeing Mr. Fawley, he waved them in with a small bow to his boss.

The International Portkey Section was ornately decorated, the first view foreign arrivals would have of Great Britain. Three large portraits hung from the wall. The largest and centered one was a regal looking portrait of Cornelius Fudge. Flanking the Minister on either side was a relaxed but regal looking Madam Gladwell, the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, and a stiff-looking Barty Crouch.

The large hall had multiple doors bolted around it, all leading to portkeys set up by the Department. Portkeys were incredibly difficult to use and create, and normally took two or three wizards to create one from scratch. Edmund had seen his father activate a deactivated one easily enough, but apparently a great deal of complex magic went into the initial creation and he had heard a great deal of stories of people doing stints in Azkaban for illegal portkey creation.

Mr. Tonks led the family to a door at the far corner. "You are the only one Travelling to Berlin today, Miss Fawley," he addressed Meredith. "Say your goodbyes and enter the chamber. The portkey activates on touch."

Tonks stepped away as Meredith turned to look at her family. She hugged Stephanie before being enveloped by Madam Fawley. Both Simon and Ned Fawley gave her a hug. Turning to Sullivan and Edmund, she gave them both a stern look. "Be nice to each other this year," she said. "Please."

"But that doesn't matter when it comes to the Quidditch Cup," she patted Sullivan on the back after hugging him. Finally, she got to Edmund, and leaned down and whispered so that no one else could hear her.

"Keep studying, Edmund. I know you got off to a rocky start last year, but I'm glad to see you have settled in. Don't let Sully get you down, and owl me if you want to talk."

Edmund merely nodded. "Goodbye, sis," he gave his older sister a hug. With one last look at her family, Meredith Fawley stepped through the door, starting her new adventure on the Continent. Stifling a tear, Madam Fawley was hugged by Stephanie. Elodie Fawley had showcased her daughter as the prime example of pureblood upbringing. Meredith Fawley was intelligent, beautiful, and talented. Madam Falwey may have been a champion for the rights of the muggleborn, but she was inherently a Pureblood, and raised in its culture and ideals. Merry was her pride and joy.

Together, Ned Fawley led the family out of the office, both Fawley gentlemen talking with Mr. Tonks while Edmund and Sullivan were left to trail their mother and Stephanie. At the Ministry Atrium, Stephanie bid her goodbyes to the family, and flooed to her own house while the Fawley's took the floo back to Promenade-On-Finn.

Upon arrival back at the Manor, Madam Fawley went with Worrow to the Kitchens where dinner was being prepared. Ned Fawley asked Sullivan to accompany him to Diagon Alley, which was more of an order than a request, leaving Edmund alone with his grandfather, strolling through the Rose Garden he maintained. The paid had begun this habit regularly at the start of the summer holidays. Before dinner, they would walk among the roses, Edmund's grandfather testing his occlumency defenses.

He had slowly begun to get better, and Edmund wanted to improve as much as he could before he left for America with Neville Longbottom. The dreams had subsided, which was a good sign as it meant that he had mastered the sub-conscious discipline, and only had to continue practicing the conscious discipline. Grandfather Fawley was nothing like Professor Kettleburn's bludgeoning attacks, but much subtler; looking for holes in his defenses instead of attempting to break down the walls. Edmund discovered that the two strategies were equally effective, ensuring he practiced strengthen his shield as well as making sure they held up in all places of his mindscape.

Only after Tracey and Daphne left the night prior, had Grandfather Fawley begun talking to him while he poked for holes. The new addition of verbal conversation had thrown Edmund off, and he had been resorted to the ground in a mere manner of minutes after his defenses were sliced open. It had been the first time he had felt so weak since Professor Kettleburn's training and this time he was prepared and determined to not let it happen again.

"Are you excited to go to America?" Simon Fawley asked. Already, Edmund could feel the probing stick in his mind, attempting to push strength from one section of the wall to another as he tried to predict the probe's movements.

"I am."

"Excellent. I was surprised yet pleased to learn of your friendship with Mr. Longbottom."

"Thank you, sir," Edmund struggled to keep his concentration focused on protecting his mind. He knew if he was forced to answer any less succinctly that he would fail. All his grandfather had to do was ask a more complicated question and he would expose how difficult this really was.

"The poor boy has been through a lot," the old man continued. "I knew his Grandfather quite well, rest his soul."

Feeling as if there was nothing to say in response, and not particularly wanting to break the increasing amount of concentration he needed to withstand the mental probing, he declined to answer. Merely nodding his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could make out his grandfather pursing his lips. He gulped. Something particularly vitriolic would be coming now.

"I was quite surprised when you wrote to your mother expressing your interest in going at all, I must say. I wouldn't have thought you'd wish to leave your 'friend' Miss Greengrass for a month."

Simon Fawley was a crafty man. He had to be as a politician himself, and he proved it to Edmund at that moment, knowing exactly which buttons to press to get him to lose his focus. Startled, Edmund strained to prevent the searing rip of his defenses as he flinched at his Grandfather's comment. Unfortunately, once his Grandfather was in, he was in, and there seemed to be no way of forcing it out. It was all he had to not fall down on hands and knees from the strain.

"That wasn't bad," his grandfather handed him a goblet of water as he conjured two chairs for them to sit in. Edmund sipped from the goblet greedily as he sunk into one of the chairs, energy drained. "You held out for a good amount of time before I was able to shatter your focus."

I feel as if I can't force you out like I can with Professor Kettleburn," Edmund confided honestly. "When he breaks down my defenses, I can sometimes repel him."

"Silvanus and I practice different styles of legilimency," the old man sighed as he seated himself in the second chair. "I prefer to take the subtler approach, which is less efficient in fighting your mindscape, but it is much harder to dismiss from your mental sphere. Silvanus takes a more head-on approach which is incredibly difficult to deny, but easier to repel."

Edmund nodded in understanding. "So why did you specialize in different forms?"

"It is a matter of personality I do believe," his grandfather mused. "Ever since our school days, Silvanus Kettleburn has been a brash individual, with a lack of filter. It is only natural that he would prefer to take the direct approach."

"Is it possible to learn both?"

"Oh, most certainly. As I said it is much more a question of personality and preference than actual technique. I could attempt to attack your mind in the direct way, but it would not be as effective. The mind is fickle, lad. There are many variables that must be taken into account."

Edmund's mind was abuzz. Knowing legilimency would be a major advantage for him in school. Professor Kettleburn and his Grandfather had warned him that it's use was illegal except in training and extreme circumstances, but at the same time, someone like Draco Malfoy or Ernie Macmillan wouldn't be familiar with the aspect anyway. If no one can tell he's doing anything, would it really be so bad?

* * *

Never having spent much too much time with his older sister during the summer holidays in the first place, life without her at Promenade-On-Finn seemed normal to Edmund. Sullivan was much closer to her age, and with Edmund being on the outs with him, her absence was significant. It was lucky for Edmund that he would soon be leaving for America. The afternoon following Merry's departure, Madam Fawley took him to Neville Longbottom's Estate in the town of Puddlemere in Dorset to meet with his grandmother, Madam Longbottom.

The town of Puddlemere on the coast of Dorset was a shell of what it used to be. Long ago, before even the founders of Hogwarts were born, Puddlemere was a center of magical thought, culture, and talent, and was said to have a library which held every spell ever invented, every book ever written, and the records of every person ever born. The town was said to be attacked during what muggles called 'The Anarchy' and an overcharge of magic destroyed it almost in it's entirety. The survivors of Puddlemere were the first to ward their city away from muggle eyes and had struggled to recover ever since. Edmund had been taken to Puddlemere once before with Susan and Wayne, and all he could remember was the popular baker in Memory Alley that made the best Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties.

The Longbottom Estate was on the edge of Puddlemere, overlooking the English Channel. It was a stately building, modern with brickwork that was connected to what looked like an ancient stone watchtower. It wasn't as large as the Promenade, but it was well suited for a pureblood family seat, and Edmund knew from his father that the Longbottoms had quite a good amount of money. Madam Longbottom ran the family and had a great deal of help from her family, the Croakers, in running the Longbottom Estate and holdings.

Edmund side-apparated with Madam Fawley into the town center of Puddlemere and walked down the main lane towards the ocean. Neville had sent an owl to Edmund earlier that morning giving him directions. All they had to do was follow the South Road and would eventually arrive. After a few minutes the old shops faded to make way to houses and sure enough, the large Estate came into view exactly as Grandfather Fawley had described it.

The property was not gated, and Edmund and Madam Fawley walked to the front door of the house. Madam Fawley gave three sharp raps on the Lion door-knocker, which roared, which Edmund assumed was heard by the house's occupants.

Sure enough, the somewhat plump Neville Longbottom opened the door hesitantly. "Edmund, Ma- Madam Fawley," he said nervously. "Welcome, please come in."

"Longbottom," Edmund greeted, earning him a disapproving look from his mother. Try as she might, she could not get him to call the Longbottom scion by his first name.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, young Master Longbottom," Madam Fawley followed her son into the hall of the House.

The Longbottom Crest hung above a large fireplace, a golden bear, holding a sword as if preparing to engage a foe, the motto in Latin appeared in golden letters below: Fortem praevalebit. The strong will prevail. The motto of the House of Neville Longbottom surprised him, but also explained a great deal. Neville's parents had been some of the finest Aurors in the Ministry according to his grandfather, and living up to their legacy, as well as the legacy of the Longbottom family must have put a great deal of pressure on the boy. Edmund typically had little sympathy but found what little he did have going out to the shy Gryffindor.

Standing at the fireplace, were an older man and woman, the man wearing black robes streaked with silver, the garb of a high ranking Unspeakable. The woman, who Edmund presumed to be Neville's grandmother stepped forward. Augusta Longbottom was a formidable looking woman wearing robes of dark burgundy. A vulture like hat was perched precariously on top of a tight bun of steel-grey hair. Edmund's mother had told him earlier in the day that the Longbottom Matriarch was quite formidable on the Wizengamot and was often able to intimidate the other members into voting the way she wanted them to.

"Madam Fawley," Neville's grandmother's voice was authoritative and clear. "Welcome to our home."

"Madam Longbottom," Elodie Fawley met their hostess halfway, where they each curtsied to each other. "The honor is mine. May I introduce my youngest, Edmund John Fawley, second son of the House of Fawley and the Roscommon."

Augusta Longbottom nodded perceptibly as Edmund walked up to her and kissed her knuckles. "Madam Longbottom," he recited perfectly. "The honor of making your acquaintance is mine alone." He was surprised as the stern matriarch had shifted her hand ever so slightly, turning the signet wrong on her finger towards his lips. It was quite an honor for the bearer of a signet ring to allow a non-family member to kiss their ring, but Edmund completed his part without hesitation, knowing that first impressions were vital among pureblood circles.

"You are well received, Master Fawley," she nodded sternly, but not unkindly as he stood up straight and backed away to stand even with his mother. "May I introduce, my brother, Algernon Croaker, Head of the Department of Mysteries, and my grandson, Neville, first son and heir presumptive of the House of Longbottom."

Edmund tried not to wince but watched Neville's face contort briefly. Neville was heir presumptive and not heir because his father should have been the heir of the family. When Neville came of age, he would have to file a writ of contest, contesting his father's claim to the title due to his residence at St. Mungo's Hospital. It was a cruel thing, to be reminded of so often. It was any wonder the Gryffindor was even sane himself with the mental torture he must go through every day.

The Unspeakable had stepped forward. Technically, Edmund's mother was ranked above Algernon Croaker as the family did not have a seat on the Wizengamot, and he kissed her hand while exchanging the traditional formalities, followed by Neville, who had executed his role perfectly. If he could only get a grip on his magic, Edmund realized, Neville Longbottom would make a fine pureblood Patriarch.

With all formalities exchanged, Madam Longbottom invited them into the parlor. The Longbottoms had traditionally been a Gryffindor family, and it showed with the choice of decoration. Deep reds were everywhere, in tapestries and furniture, with a large window replacing one of the walls, looking out across the English Channel. The House was old, but it had developed a very modern look many Purebloods struggled to adapt to. The three males in the room waited for the two women to sit in the main armchairs before sitting down in the smaller chairs next to them. Edmund was sitting next to Neville, who was sitting next to his uncle, Algernon.

"I am so very happy Neville will be accompanying Edmund to America, Augusta," Madam Fawley was saying, helping herself to a sugar cube she put in the tea that the Longbottom Matriarch had given her. "A friend of our family, Helen Maylock, is the Director."

"Well Neville loves Herbology and as you were able to secure a place for him, the money was only a small factor, Madam Longbottom dismissed. "Plus, I do hope that the potions section will improve his rather horrendous potions mark at Hogwarts for his second year." At this Edmund shifted uncomfortable as Neville was fixed with a beady eye from both his grandmother and great-uncle. He knew that many Gryffindors were not fans of his Head of House, Severus Snape, and many, including adults held the misconception that he treated those not in his own House unfairly.

Blessedly, Edmund's mother decided to clear her throat and break the tension. "I daresay Edmund's Herbology mark could use a bit of improvement as well. How he struggles in the class I know not, Pomona Sprout tells me your grandson was the only reason he managed to pass it."

Madam Longbottom looked a bit more pleased with her grandson at this. "Well I suppose it shall be a good experience for them then. Neville is very excited to go."

"As is Edmund," his mother replied. "My husband has arranged for a portkey tomorrow, but we were unsure of whether Neville would be returning with Edmund at the end of the summer."

"He shall not," Neville's grandmother replied somewhat testily looking at her grandson. "Earlier this summer, Neville requested that he purchase a wand of his own, instead of continuing to wield the proud wand of his father. I eventually agreed, but I will not be seen walking into Ollivanders for all of Diagon Alley to know that the wand of Frank Longbottom was not good enough for his only son!"

Neville blushed furiously at this. Edmund had been the one to persuade him to get a new wand, and had exchanged numerous letters convincing him to finally ask. It looked as if it was still a sore point with his grandmother however, so he used his occlumency to help school his emotions.

"Well the wand chooses the wizard," Madam Fawley obviously approved of his choice. "Which wandmaker will you be going to in America?"

"Jonker," Algernon Croaker finally spoke again. "it is said his wands are the best."

"We almost got Edmund his wand there," Madam Fawley was obviously taken with their choice. "His craftsmanship is exquisite."

The three adults continued to talk about the logistics of the trip. Neville would be going to America via portkey with the Fawley's. Portkeys to the United States were quite expensive, with the Magical Congress of the United States of America enforcing strict regulations on transport. Luckily, Ned Fawley's diplomatic status allowed them to forego travel by ship and utilize a special ministry portkey. Madam Fawley would take the two boys to see some of the magical neighborhoods in New York City before taking them to the Maylock Preserve in Allegheny National Forest. The intense training session was four weeks long, directed by some of the best Herbologists and Potions Masters in the Western Hemisphere.

Ned Fawley and Augusta Longbottom would travel by portkey to New York and on so to the Preserve to pick up Edmund and Neville. Edmund's father would take him back to Ireland, while the Longbottoms would travel to Philadelphia to get a wand from Mister Joncker.

With the discussion on the logistics over, the adults excused Neville and Edmund as they began to discuss matters of the Wizengamot. Augusta Longbottom and Elodie Fawley, while not belonging to the same faction in the Wizengamot, often found themselves on the same side of the issues and championed the increased integration of muggleborns into Wizarding Society. Edmund kept his thoughts on the matter quiet, as he knew he would only create trouble for himself with his mother and father.

Never having been to Longbottom's house, Edmund was given the tour by his nervous year mate. Neville's room reeked of Gryffindor memorabilia, and even worse, a Puddlemere United Poster. It was much to his surprise, upon pointing out the poster that Neville gained quite a deal of confidence when discussing his favorite Quidditch Team.

"Puddlemere lacks a Keeper," Edmund dismissed. "They way they let goals in they'll be lucky to hold up against the Cannons this year."

"They'll have no problem with the Cannons," Neville asserted. "They're the best team in England this season."

"Appleby, Montrose…" Edmund argued, listing off teams.

"Puddlemere will beat them," Neville refused to budge on the subject.

"Whatever you say…."

Edmund continued looking around the room. 'Are you excited to get a new wand?" he asked.

"I am," Neville smiled briefly. "Gran had quite a fit, but I think she respected the fact that I stood up to her."

"She should be," Edmund nodded. "You need to stand up for what not only you want, but what you need."

"Are you speaking from experience?"

"Yes," Edmund replied, examining the familiar Remembrall that had caused so much trouble for Neville in the past school year. "You don't get far in Slytherin without taking what you want and need. We may be a house of cunning, but we are also a house of ambition."

"What are your ambitions?"

Edmund looked out the window for a few moments, watching the waves of the English Channel lapping against the stony shore of England. "Recognition. Fame that I have earned, not inherited."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Therein ends this chapter. Next chapter I will be taking a different tack, and showing a point of view that does not belong to Edmund Fawley. I decided that a chapter where he does not show up is the best medium to explain the very complex character that he is developing. Special thanks to Renata MM for her reviews. Renata MM mentioned my choice of wand wood for Edmund, calling it much more of a showy want. She isn't wrong. All I will say at this point, is the Edmund is eleven, and his personality is still developing. Being sorted into Slytherin did have an outward effect on his attitute and mindset, so his First Year was perhaps a bit different and unexpected for him. His personality will be further developed as he matures into his Fourth Year at Hogwarts. The next chapter will also touch on this. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. let me know what you all think!_


	11. Chapter 11

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **By elk99**

 **A/N:** _This chapter is shorter than the normal, but as mentioned at the last update, would be more of a special chapter, as Edmund plays no role in it himself. There is a lot of dialogue in this chapter, so if you aren't a dialogue fan, I'm sorry but like too bad. This chapter is in response to questions I received regarding how Edmund's personality in conjunction with his wand (Renata MM I hope this answers it!) and how his family reacted to his sorting. This chapter also sets the scenes for what will be going on behind the scenes in Edmund's Second Year. Cheers!_

* * *

"Good afternoon, Mister Fawley," Madam Rosmerta called from the bar as the familiar figure of Simon Fawley entered the bar. "What can I get for you today?"

"Afternoon, Rosmerta," he answered. "A glass of Firewhiskey if you please. Ogden's would be preferable."

As the innkeeper busied herself locating a bottle of one of her more finer bottles, the old man sat at the bar, deep in thought. Today the school would be undergoing its academic assessment. In the past it had been a tiresome and tedious affair and he had no doubt that this year it would be the same. Not only would they have to assess the exams, but would once again, need to find a replacement for the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was a shame, he thought. Quirinus Quirrell had, by all reports, made a quite adequate teacher on the subject. His sabbatical to Albania had reportedly been met with great success, and it was hard to imagine what could have caused his demise in Hogwarts under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore.

He took a sip of the firewhiskey, holding the liquid in his mouth to savor the taste before allowing it to swish down his throat. Had he not been a member of the Governors, with responsibilities managing his family assets and his duties to the Irish Council, he probably would have taken the job himself. He didn't hold much stock in the fabled jinx on the post, he just really didn't have the time for it, and he was sure his grandchildren would be mortified to have him as one of their Professors.

The door to the inn burst open, letting in more sunlight that caused Simon Fawley to shield his eyes from the glare. "Sorry, Simon," a man said as the door closed.

"Gideon," Simon greeted the newcomer. Gideon Brocklehurst was just as old as he was, wearing robes of baby blue that he privately thought belonged in a children's crib and not on a grown man. "Come to have a drink before going up?"

"You know I can't take these assessment meetings anymore," the man grumbled. "Not unless I have a drink in me."

"It certainly helps," Simon agreed. "It's going to be a long one, this afternoon."

"Ah yes, Lucius asked for an inquiry did he not?"

"Yes, in good Lucius style, of course," he agreed wearily. "It may be my biggest regret to date, voting to approve that man's seat on our Board."

"You couldn't have known, Simon," Gideon slid a galleon across the bar as he received a glass of firewhiskey from Madam Rosmerta. "He also represents the younger men. Perhaps us codgers need to be moving to the side."

Simon Fawley threw a sharp look at his companion. "I could best Lucius Malfoy in a duel, rather easily I believe, Gideon," he said testily. "I'm old, not dead."

Brocklehurst held up his hands in surrender. "Whatever you say, Simon," he resigned himself wearily.

The two sat at the bar, lost in their thoughts. It was worrying, Simon thought. When members of the community such as Gideon Brocklehurst, who had long been a critic of the Dark Arts began to rationalize the rhetoric and tactics of gentlemen such as Lucius Malfoy.

Taking out his pocket watch, he realized it was time to begin the walk up to the Castle. Finishing the rest of the drink with one gulp, he savored the burning taste that ran like fiendfyre down his throat. Placing a galleon on the table, he called out to the bartender. "Add the difference to my tab, will you, good Madam?"

"Of course, Lord Fawley," Madam Rosmerta smiled. "Have an excellent meeting, gentlemen."

Together, Gideon Brocklehurst and Simon Fawley stepped out of the inn and made their way to the gates of the Hogwarts Grounds. "Good afternoon, Hagrid!" Simon called out jovially as the gates appeared, along with the giant gamekeeper standing at the gates.

"Afternoon, Mister Fawley," Hagrid returned the greeting with a wave. "Mister Brocklehurst."

"Good day, Hagrid."

"Keeping on, Hagrid?" Simon asked as the gamekeeper lifted the large chains around the gates.

"I am sir, thank you," the half-giant replied easily, opening the gate for their entry. "Mr. Filch wanted me to tell you the Governors' Chamber is ready for you."

"Many thanks."

They continued walking up the path that led to the Castle. It had been near a century since Simon had been a student at Hogwarts, but he found its effect never was lost on him. The beauty of its rugged features was second to none. He knew that the Chateau of Beauxbatons in the Pyrenees was widely considered one of the most splendid schools in the world, but in his humble opinion, there was no place like Hogwarts. He remembered his Quidditch days playing for his house team, Hufflepuff with Gideon Brocklehurst. The two had been beaters together, the latter being only a few years younger than him.

In his seventh year, Hufflepuff had won both the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup. He remembered the final match against Slytherin with stunning alacrity, how the Hufflepuff Seeker had raced the Slytherin Seeker for twenty minutes before finally catching the snitch, stealing the Cup from the Serpents, 210 to 200. The Daily Prophet had covered the match and the Hufflepuff Seeker, Colm Corry, had received an offer from Kenmare, the team's first muggleborn pick in Wizarding History.

At this point they had reached the Entrance Hall of the Castle, the large four hourglasses reverted to their original state, with the large gems in the top half, unawarded. The magic of Hogwarts recognized them as belonging here, and the staircases wasted none of their time. The Boardroom was on the fifth floor, adjacent to the Prefect Council Chambers. During the school year the large double doors were normally covered by a tapestry of Walter Algernon, Headmaster of Hogwarts when the Board of Governors was created. Now, during the summer, the tapestry had vanished, perhaps to make it easier for the Governors to get to and from, no longer having to deal with the ramblings, grudges, and complaints the tapestry seemed to have over being forced to split in two each time access to the room was needed.

They were the first to enter the room, which was well lit with all the crests of each house on the four walls. Below each crest was a portrait of each governor that had once served on the board from that House. The way the Board was set up, in Simon's opinion, was quite ingenious. There were twelve seats, three Governors from each house, with the Headmaster of Hogwarts casting any tie-breaking votes as needed. That way, all four houses were equally represented on the Board. Simon and Gideon were two of the representatives from Hufflepuff. The center of the room was a large semi-circular table with thirteen thronelike chairs. A Podium stood in the center, facing the middle chairs.

Simon and Gideon took their seats, the former sat on the left-hand side of the central chair where the headmaster would sit, while Gideon flanked him on his left. Soon enough, more and more members trickled into the room. Lucius Malfoy was the last to come, sitting at the end of the table on the left side, the most junior member of the board.

Otto Druvitch, the Chief Governor sat on the right-hand side immediately next to the still empty seat of the Headmaster. He cleared his throat. "We will wait but a few more minutes for, professor Dumbledore."

"Surely, we could start without him," came the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Half-past does mean half-past."

"I don't think he shall be long," the Chief Governor dismissed Malfoy with a wave of his hand, no doubt infuriating the stuck-up wizard.

"He definitely will not," the entire room looked up to see Albus Dumbledore enter through the doorway, massive silver doors closing behind him. "Forgive me, Chief Governor," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I found myself in a rather interesting room filled with orange pasties and cream."

"It is of no matter, Professor Dumbledore," Otto Druvitch said calmly, an inkling of a smile showing while many of the other Governor's chuckled at the Headmaster's eccentricities. "If you don't mind however, we will get started now."

He pulled out a scroll and dipped his quill into the inkpot. "Brocklehurst..?"

"Present."

"Fawley?"

"Present," Simon said.

"Scamander?"

"Present."

"Boot?"

"Present."

"Davies?"

"Present."

"Sorenson?"

"Present."

"Carrow?"

"Present."

"Croaker?"

"Present."

"Malfoy?"

"Present."

"Doge?"

"Present."

"Druvitch is present with the gavel… McLaggen?"

"Present."

"The Headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"Present," Albus Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes still shining brightly.

"Very well," the Chief Governor set down the quill to rest in the inkpot. "All are present, so let us begin. The first order of business is to select the new Governors who will begin next month. Seven members of this body, including myself will be retiring at the end of this meeting…."

The meeting dragged on for over an hour, discussing new members that would take place of the seven retiring Governors. Druvitch, Scamander, Doge, Boot, Sorenson, Carrow, and Croaker were all retiring at the end of this meeting and the process of selecting their replacements was a tedious affair. Dumbledore as Headmaster had little to do with this part of the meeting, having no say in the Board's dealings unless in a tie, yet maintained an aura of cool nonchalance that Simon envied.

Otto Druvitch and Elphias Doge were currently haggling over who would be the last Gryffindor member, replacing Druvitch. As much as he loved Otto as an excellent friend, the man was very particular, and Simon had no more time for it. "What of Madam Longbottom?" he asked the table, which immediately fell silent upon his suggestion. Druvitch and Doge were both gaping at him, which would have been particularly humorous had he not already been annoyed at their current progress.

"Madam Longbottom left this council after her husband and daughter-in-law succumbed to their injuries," Elphias Doge said as he shot a discreet look towards Lucius Malfoy.

"There is nothing in the bylaws of this council that forbids a witch or wizard to return to the board provided that it goes through the proper procedure established," said Newt Scamander, eager to move on with what would be his last meeting.

"I must say is it not concerning that we would consider bringing back a Witch who left this board in the first place?" Lucius Malfoy had finally chosen to open his mouth.

"Really, Lucius?" Simon leaned forward, incensed. "And I do suppose that actions taken as a result of actions taken by the Dark Lord should bear great consequence than?"

Simon knew he had hit a mark with who he privately considered the 'blonde-haired ponce' as his face turned a paler white than he had seen on one of the Hogwarts' ghosts. What Lucius had said had been hypocritical and out of line. Augusta Longbottom had been a dedicated member of the board before her son Frank, and his wife, Alice had been tortured by Barty Crouch Jr. and the Lestranges. The proud woman had left to take care of her grandson and ailing son. For Malfoy to suggest anything dishonorable regarding that situation was disgraceful.

Breaking the uncomfortable silence, Otto Druvitch cleared his throat. "As long as Madam McLaggen has no objections to her predecessor returning to this council, I cannot bring myself to object."

"I have none," the woman replied without skipping a beat.

"Very well," Druvitch made a note on the parchment with his quill. "Motion for a vote by acclamation?"

"Seconded," called Gideon Brocklehurst.

"All in favor?"

"AYE," Simon Fawley called out with the remainder of the council.

"Augusta Longbottom will be notified as to this new result, and given time to accept before the next meeting," Druvitch sighed, the hint of a smile on his face.

"We may now move on to other order of business. We will begin by regarding the assessment of exam results on the sixth-year level and contrasting them to the OWL results of last year."

* * *

The testing scores in our Defense Against the Dark Arts Classes are far from adequate as set by the Ministry of Magic's Testing Center as established by Madam Marchbanks. This is true not only for prior NEWT level results but current and past OWL results. The standard of this class has been on a downward trend for the past thirty years as estimated by the Ministry Testing Bureau."

Simon Fawley took a larger then needed sip of elven wine from his goblet to help the Yorkshire Pudding settle. Elphias Doge was blathering on and on about the Defense Against the Dark Arts scores, a point which had been hammered in for the past three hours the governors assessed the mean scores of all the years at Hogwarts. He was pleased to see that his grandson, Edmund had come out second in his class, behind a Ravenclaw boy by the name of Terrence Boot, and followed by a Gryffindor girl named Hermione Granger. He knew Terrence's great-uncle was on the board, although one of the members retiring, but he could not place the name of the Granger girl, unless she was related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, but he could think of no possible connection. The girl must be muggleborn he had decided, his respect for her growing.

Sometime in the past three hours, Dumbledore had the House Elves prepare a dinner for the governors. He admired the Headmaster's patience. Hector Fawley, his father, had often butted heads with the man, but Simon had always respected him. Albus Dumbledore was the man his father could never be, a leader who could inspire people just by being present.

He tuned back to the conversation in time to hear Lucius Malfoy's grating drawl, criticizing the Headmaster on the low Defense Scores.

Glen Sorenson, countered Malfoy's point that while the scores were decreasing, they were still far above the scoreres denoted by the Ministry as Acceptable. Before Malfoy could counter, Druvitch spoke up again. "This conversation is becoming circular," he barked, he too getting tired of how long the proceedings had dragged on for. "Perhaps we should give Professor Dumbledore an opportunity to discuss this issue."

All eyes turned to the Headmaster, who smiled congenially at them all before answering. "The grades in the course of Defense Against the Dark Arts is indeed troubling, and Professor McGonagall and I are actively searching for a way to combat this trend," he paused, taking a sip from the large golden goblet. "However, I will say that the decrease is hardly a downward spiral, Governors. The decrease has, in fact, been small, and may be attributed to the relative piece in the past ten years which we have seen since the vanquish of Lord Voldemort."

All the Governor's flinched, including Simon Fawley. He knew he should overcome such fear of the name, but the terror of the Dark Lord had been vast, and it was pure luck that the Death Eaters had not hunted down his family. Only a house riddled with magic of the ancient rituals could withstand their fervor. Luckily, the Promenade, protected by the magic of Maeve, was secure.

"And what are you doing to combat the trend, regardless of how miniscule," sneered Lucius Malfoy.

If possible, Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle even brighter. "I have found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," he said.

* * *

"What was it that persuaded that man to join your staff, Albus?"

Simon Fawley was enjoying another firewhiskey with Albus Dumbledore in the Headmaster's office. The Assessment Meeting of the Board of Governor's had lasted a long while, and he had no doubts that his family would all be in bed and asleep regardless of how quickly he returned to the Promenade. The Headmaster's offer of a nightcap had been, at that point, too tempting to pass up.

"I daresay Gilderoy believes himself deserving of a break, or perhaps a chance at influencing the younger generations," Dumbledore's eyes had their famous twinkle as he poured himself a glass of Ogden's Finest.

"You don't actually think that man knows what he is talking about do you, Albus." While phrased as a question, Simon already knew the answer as he looked at the Headmaster speculatively. "You want to expose him."

"I find that the art of teaching is much more difficult then spinning narratives, Governor," Professor Dumbledore said pleasantly as he raised his glass to Simon. "I simply wanted to give Mr. Lockhart an opportunity to… rise to the occasion."

The two chuckled briefly. It was good, Simon thought, that he trusted the Hogwart's Headmaster implicitly. A Governor such as Lucius Malfoy or even Glen Sorenson would have been furious had they known about the Headmaster's plan for the teacher. "It is Sullivan's OWL year," he warned Dumbledore. "I don't want this 'hokey-pokey' to negatively affect his mark for that class."

"Not to worry, Simon," Dumbledore said solemnly. "If my hunch is correct this year will see a rise in Defense Scores in both OWL and NEWT levels."

"And Edmund."

"Ahh," Dumbledore sat back in the massive throne-like chair, gazing at Simon Fawley over his half-moon spectacles. "Your youngest grandchild has been filled with surprises this past year."

"Believe you me," Simon muttered. "It was a surprise at home as well."

"I can imagine it would be. Nonetheless he has flourished in Slytherin."

"The family is still worried about him of course," Simon said. "He hardly writes home and he has been feuding with his brother."

"Yet his grades are, as I'm sure you discovered tonight, exemplary," Dumbledore countered. "He has a strong friend group and is developing a personality without the shadow of his family looming over him."

"He has a dogwood wand, Albus," Simon said. "Yet his personality has not shown me any reason to believe such is suitable for him."

Dumbledore remained silent for a few moments. "I forgot that you are a student of wand lore, Simon."

"Only as a hobby. I couldn't match someone of Garrick's caliber."

"The dogwood is the wand of the charmer, the prankster and such," Dumbledore pulled a scroll from his desk and perused it. "You do not think this matches the personality of your grandson?"

"Of course not," Simon said incredulously. "He says very little, but the dogwood is a loud wood for wands."

"Usually," Dumbledore corrected. "You are tying your grandson's wand with the wand of your own father, and you are trying to see the similarities where perhaps none have manifested. Edmund is not Hector, Simon, and their situations are completely different.

"I disagree with you about your grandson's personality," the Headmaster continued. "You forget that Slytherin is the House of Cunning and Ambition. Your grandson possesses a great deal of cunning, perhaps more cunning than I have seen in years."

"Based on what?" Simon asked, more curious than affronted.

"I can think of one particular event," Dumbledore smiled briefly. "But the boy does not know anyone else knows of it, and I for one, will not be the one to spill his secret."

"There is one other thing I worry about," Simon creased his brow.

"You are worried still about him possessing such a loud wand?" Dumbledore asked, ever perceptive.

"Dogwood has become increasingly rare amongst wizards of talent, Albus," he said. "If he cannot master the wand before he needs to cast non-verbal spells, I cannot imagine an occupation which will suit him."

"I understand, Simon," the Headmaster finished his firewhiskey with a gulp. "But consider the possibility that he does master the wand. A wizard with mastery over the dogwood will be powerful beyond belief."

* * *

 **A/N:** _There ends the chapter. Let me know what you think of it. If you really don't appreciate it or find it worthwhile I will most likely not spend the extra time doing it, and will focus purely on Edmund's end. I appreciate all your reviews, so please don't stop reviewing. I do take all comments and criticism to heart, and consider everything before a new update is posted. Next chapter will be back to the usual length with the usual point of view._


	12. Chapter 12

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **By Elk99**

 **A/N:** _Sorry for the long wait, I had exams (Which for me is really just papers) and by the time I finished I had no motivation to be writing anything else. I think I have recovered however. Another factor is that much of this chapter was a product of my own creation and not canon, but honestly I can't imagine wealthy purebloods just sit around their manor all day. Please enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think after. Anything recognizable is Madam Rowling's._

* * *

The day of Edmund and Neville's departure to America was a typical rainy day. The family ate their breakfast together in the dining room. Ned Fawley was wearing his official Ministry Robes denoting him as a Member of the Diplomatic Community, and Edmund had been instructed to wear the red and black of the house of Fawley. The white tower, aflame in the ocean was stitched at his back. His father had insisted he wear the robes, as going abroad he would represent one of Britain's most ancient families. Grandfather Fawley had assured him that Madam Longbottom would be fitting Neville in such robes as well, as it was imperatively important to make an impression among the Americans apparently.

After Breakfast, Edmund went up to retrieve his trunk. The letter from Director Maylock explicitly stated he would need his school uniform, as well as plain robes for everyday usage. Special robes for practical courses would be given to them upon their arrival at the Preserve. After a careful examination of his trunk, he was satisfied that everything was in order. Turning to the window, he looked expectantly at Ptolemy, who had refused to enter his owl cage since arriving back at the Promenade. "Come on now don't be like this," he sighed. "Mum will kill me."

The Eagle Owl stared at him haughtily for a second, before finally flying from the windowsill to his outstretched arm, allowing Edmund to place him in the cage. "There we go," he chuckled. "Worrow!"

With a crack, the Fawley house elf was at his side. "Young Master called Worrow," she wheezed. 'Young Master be needing Worrow to bring down his trunk?"

"Send it down to the Hall," Edmund called over his shoulder, already on his way out of the bedroom, hands full with Ptolemy's cage.

Since the whole family was going to the Ministry to see Edmund off, his father had announced that they would be using floo to get to the Ministry, much to Edmund's chagrin. He went down to the Hall where his father and brother were waiting, discussing some Quidditch play Sullivan was trying to formulate. Edmund paid them no mind. He was a competent beater with a killer aim, but he would never be as invested in the sport as his brother was. As he stood there waiting, he felt a sharp pain in his mind. Instantly, his occlumency shields were up. The pressing only occurred for another minute before it stopped, and he saw his grandfather standing in front of him.

"Don't let your defenses stagnate in the Americas," he whispered to Edmund so that the others wouldn't hear. "It's time to move beyond one layer of defense."

Edmund nodded quietly and kept his emotions from showing, but inside, he was incredibly excited. That had been the first time he had ever deflected a legilimancy attack without warning. He was sure Grandfather Fawley was holding back, but he also knew he was not being coddled. Occlumency was something that set him apart from his siblings, something skillful, not just based on his Hogwarts House. Once he had mastered occlumency, he would be investigating legilimancy. He could become the king of Slytherin House by the time he left Hogwarts if he could break into the minds of his housemates and year mates.

At that moment, Madam Fawley entered in an elegant, but functional brown traveling cloak. Once again, Edmund was sent first through the emerald green flames of the floo. "The Ministry of Magic!" he called out clearly before being spun through the endless network and deposited in the cool tile of the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Sullivan came out next, handing Ptolemy's cage to Edmund. The two brothers had still not said a word to each other, but slowly were beginning to create a tolerance that was devoid of animosity.

The three adult Fawleys followed Sullivan and joined Edmund by the gates where their wands would be checked. After entering, they found Neville and his grandmother at the Fountain of Magical Brethren. The proper formalities between Neville and Simon and Ned Fawley, and between Sullivan and Madam Longbottom occurred without incident, although Edmund did notice that Sullivan was not allowed to kiss the signet ring of the Longbottom Matriarch.

Ned Fawley led them back to the lifts where once again they traveled to the Portkey Office, where Ted Tonks was waiting for them, along with Barty Crouch. They were led down the hall to the International Portkey Office, workers on either side would stop and face Mr. Crouch as he walked by as if he owned the place. Edmund was given a distinct reminder of his housemate, Draco Malfoy. As they reached the door, Neville said goodbye to his grandmother while Edmund gave his brother, father, and Grandfather a hug.

"Work on those shields," his grandfather whispered in his ear again.

"Of course, Grandfather," he responded, before following his mother and Neville into the portkey chamber.

The room was rather bland, a small cubicle with a single torch of witchlight and a small table in the center. On the table, was the ugliest looking boot Edmund had ever seen. "This portkey is timed," Ted Tonks, who had come in after them announced. "It will depart in thirty seconds. Please grab hold now.

"Best of travels," he called out after them before slipping from the room and shutting the door behind him.

"First time traveling by portkey, Longbottom?" he asked Neville, who looked a bit uneasy as his hand grabbed the top of the boot. "It's mine too. I heard that sometimes they never find the people who let go."

"Edmund John Fawley!" his mother started in on him, but before she could scold him further, he felt a pull at his navel, and suddenly he was flying through the air. The sensation was amazing, truly this was the only way to travel. He looked over and saw that neither Neville or his mother were having the same fun. Neville appeared to be holding the boot for dear life while his mother kept her eyes closed despite her calm composure.

Almost as soon as it had started, Edmund found himself dropped upon a granite floor along with Neville. Looking up, the two boys found Madam Fawley standing gracefully above them, albeit a bit paler than she was back in London. "It comes with practice," she answered Edmund's unasked question. "Everyone ends up on the ground their first time, much like the floo."

Looking around, Edmund saw that he was in a wide cavernous room, almost as if someone had furnished a cave. There were large banners bearing the symbols of the MACUSA and the ICW hanging from pillars. As he got up, he noticed a man dressed in black pinstripe robes approaching them. This man, he noticed, had the giant 'M' of the British Ministry of Magic sewn on his left shoulder rather then MACUSA or ICW. "Madam Fawley," the man gave Elodie Fawley a short bow. Edmund noticed that he had a British accent, English, a Londoner specifically. "My name is William Head, Ambassador to the MACUSA. I know your husband very well."

"I have heard of you, Mister Ambassador," she answered. "I trust you will make our way through immigration no more difficult then necessary?"

"Of course, Madam," he bowed his head congenially. "But we will need the boys to register their wand with the authorities. MACUSA policy."

"My son is the son of the Second Highest Diplomat in the British Department of International Cooperation, Ambassador," Edmund's mother drew herself up to her full height, briefly exuding an image of what a young Professor McGonagall had looked like. "Surely he is not bound by such senseless restrictions?"

The Ambassador was unfazed. "They're adamant, Madam," he said. "No registration for children still in school, no entry. Simple as that."

For the next hour, Edmund and Neville were carted around the cavern where they had to register their wands with the American Aurors. He kept catching phrases being thrown around, specifically, "Rappaport's Law," but he didn't know what it was. He assumed it had something to do with the registration of wands and made a mental note to research it as soon as he had the chance. Finally, with the registration done, there were led to the end of the cavern, where two Wizards, also in pinstriped robes were guarding the door.

"Welcome to the United States of America," one of the Wizard's spoke up. "This is the MACUSA Immigration and Travel Center at Ellis Island. Your papers have come through and have been cleared for further entry to New York."

The stepped past the Wizards and found themselves near what looked to be similar to the carts at Gringotts, but larger. The cart easily fit the four and took off immediately as Neville clambered into his seat. Within minutes, the cart had slowed to a slow roll before finally stopping at a sign that read, New York City, Woolworth Building.

Ambassador Head led the two boys up a set of stone stairs, with Madam Fawley bringing up the rear. Eventually, the stairs changed from stone to Marble, and before he knew it, Edmund was standing in a massive cathedral like structure. A massive monument stood to his left, and witches and wizards were bustling to and fro, paying no heed to the newcomers. "Welcome to the Magical Congress of the United States of America, boys," Ambassador Head gave them a warm smile. "Let's meander to my office and we can examine your itinerary."

"That," the Ambassador motioned to the large monument by the main entrance, "is the Monument to those lost in the Salem Witch Trials to the Muggles, or as they are called here, 'No-Majs.' The Americans are very wary of Muggles and have a much more recent history of conflict with them then many of us in Europe do."

"Wicked," Neville murmured so only Edmund could here him.

After getting over his initial shock, the two boys soon realized that the Woolworth Building and the Ministry were very similar, having essentially all the same departments, just in different positions. Ambassador Head had taken them to his office and confirmed the itinerary with Madam Fawley, who also had a writ of consent from Neville's grandmother, allowing her to make a decision on behalf of her grandson if she was not present or able to. Once they were done, the Ambassador bid them goodbye, and they exited onto the streets of New York, specifically Broadway in Manhattan. Upon entering the street with their trunks, Madam Fawley turned around and tapped each boy with her wand.

"I have illusioned your robes to look more like muggle outerwear," she explained as she did the same to herself. "There is no need to cause issues."

"It's a bit loud, you reckon?" Edmund asked Neville.

"It's because of those car things the muggles have," Neville pointed at a particularly yellow automation that joined what seemed to be hundred of others in the streets of New York.

"It's worse then London," he breathed out. "Who would get into those things?"

As it turned out, Edmund would be one of the people who would be getting into them. Madam Fawley stuck her arm out awkwardly into the street before a bright yellow vehicle came rumbling to a stop beside her. "Come now, boys," she beckoned them over.

"Lovely," Edmund muttered.

* * *

Later that night, Edmund collapsed in his bed at The Blind Pig, a New York Wizarding Speakeasy that would provide a floo point to the Preserve. The 'cab ride' as his mother called it, had been horrible. Sure he had seen plenty of the muggle transports when in London or even Dublin and Limerick, but never had he been forced to _ride_ in one. He was convinced that the parts used to power the car must be a combination of runic elements, as no creation could sustain itself in that fashion without the help of magic.

It had been twenty minutes of a trip from the MACUSA to the Inn, and they had lunch, which was being served as Dinner due to the time difference. His mother had then taken them out into the underground Wizarding Community, where they saw a play called _The Adventures of Jacob Kowalski_. It was about a muggle in New York who accompanied a British Wizard in finding fantastic beasts that had been set loose on muggle New York. It was a comedy, but Edmund could tell that there were many references he did not understand.

At the end of the play Madam Fawley had bought both Edmund and Neville ice cream cones before sending them up to their room, which is where they found themselves now. Edmund's mother had also earlier given them each a vial of a tiring potion, which was supposed to render the drinker to a state of fatigue that would allow them to fall asleep. Edmund took the time to take care of hygiene before drinking the potion, as did Longbottom. Neither boy wanted to fall asleep instantly it seemed.

Now, Edmund stretched out on the twin bed, about to reach for the potion on the nightstand before he saw a truly horrific sight. Neville Longbottom was trying to kill him.

"What are you doing?" he asked imperiously at the Gryffindor, attempting to discreetly inch further away on the bed.

Neville raised his head from the creature in his hands to Edmund. "Oh, this is Trevor," he said. "I'm just setting him on the nightstand for the evening."

"You can't put him there," Edmund felt as if he was going to be sick. "He might jump onto my face!"

"Stop being such a girl, Fawley," Longbottom snapped, effectively shutting Edmund up. He had never been called a girl before, nor did he believe timid Neville Longbottom had ever snapped at anyone. Without another word, he uncorked the vial and downed it in one gulp, trying to ignore the taffy-like taste that did not mix well with his toothpaste. After a few minutes, thoughts of sleep overtook him, pushing the horrible taste and Neville's toad out of his thoughts.

* * *

Edmund and Neville had little time to explore New York, as Madam Fawley had whisked them off the next morning after a small breakfast to the floo, which would take them to the preserve.

"Loudly and clearly now, boys," Madam Fawley instructed them as she stretched out the pot of floo powder. "Enunciate clearly, The Maylock Preserve."

Neville took the powder first before stepping into the fireplace. "The Maylock Preserve!" the ever-nervous Gryffindor all but shouted as he was enfolded in the green flames.

Stepping into the fireplace immediately after, Edmund took the powder and wasted little time calling out the destination quickly in order to not catch the smoky remnants of Neville's departure. In an instant of being squeezed and rapidly shoved down a narrow tube, he was deposited on the hard surface of a small waiting room. Neville looked as if he had just stood up and extended a hand. Taking it gratefully, Edmund brushed himself off quickly before composing himself and examining their surroundings.

They were in a windowless room. The floor was a light wood, and the walls were filled with pictures of children running in the forest, all flanking a sleeping portrait of a tall intimidating women that almost reminded Edmund of an older version of Professor McGonagall. He had seen her before of course.

"Where are we?" Neville asked him, "And shouldn't your mum be here by now?"

"Mother won't come immediately," Edmund responded idly, looking closer at some of the pictures, not failing to notice the hardwood door on the other side of the room. "She isn't needed yet."

Neville looked as if he wanted to press his questioning, so he plowed on before the other boy could interrupt him. "This is the Maylock Preserve in the Allegany Forest. It's been in the possession of the Maylock Family for almost a century. The Maylocks are good friends of the family."

"So you've been here?" Neville asked.

"Never in this room," Edmund shrugged. "The only other time I was in America was five years ago and we came through Mexico, so this is all fairly new for me.

"We should probably continue on ahead," he gestured at the door to Neville. No sense waiting for Mother. She will come with our stuff when she comes."

The two boys made their way over to the door. "Who is that portrait then?" Neville asked as Edmund grabbed the door handle.

"Darlene Maylock," Edmund answered easily as they entered a corridor and continued to another door. "She's probably a bit older then my Grandfather now. She founded the Herbology Camp, which is the reason for the Maylock's enormous wealth."

Neville's response was cut off as Edmund pushed the second door open and was instantly tackled by a small blur of motion that threw him onto the ground.

"Eddie!" the little girl on top of him squealed. "You came here this time!"

Chuckling, Edmund attempted to untangle himself from the girl. She was about six years old with curly black hair. "I have been here before, Dolly. You just don't remember it."

"Doesn't count then, does it," the small child pouted as Edmund successfully stood up. "We always go to England."

"And in _Ireland_ , Dolly, they do not tackle their guests within minutes of arriving," said a familiar drawl. An older boy, the same age as Edmund and Neville got up from one of the armchairs in the room. He had long black hair that reached his shoulders and an easy smile that touched his face, complimenting a mischievous look in his eyes. Stepping forward, he embraced Edmund. "Good to see you, Edmund."

"Likewise," Edmund said before stepping back. "Martin, may I introduce to you my classmate and friend, Neville Longbottom. Neville, this is my friend Martin Maylock. He goes to Ilvermorny and his family runs the Preserve. This little rascal here," he mock scowled at the little girl who had gone to stand to the side, "is his younger sister Dolly."

"Nice to meet you," Neville extended a hand to Martin.

"A pleasure," Martin responded easily taking the hand. "You were mentioned in a few of Edmund's letters I think."

Before he had a chance to blush at that comment, Edmund was saved by a very impatient Dolly Maylock. "Where is Aunt Elodie," she demanded as Martin rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure she's coming soon, dear," a deep but feminine voice said. Spinning around, a woman in brown herbology robes had entered the room. She had cropped brown hair and her robes were mottled with what looked like dirt that could rival the level seen on Professor Sprout's robes. Looking directly at Neville, she smiled briefly before extending an ungloved hand. "You must be Neville Longbottom." It was not a question, but an observation. "Helen Maylock. I'm the Director of this Herbology Camp. I heard you are quite exceptional in the field."

Blushing furiously at the attention, Neville shook the preferred hand. "Thank you, ma'am," he said quietly.

Turning an eye to Edmund, Director Maylock gave him a once-over. "Amazing what a year of growth can do, isn't it Mister Fawley?"

"I don't suppose I've really noticed a difference, Director," Edmund replied easily, unfazed by the off-catching directness that he had grown acquainted with.

Chuckling softly, Director Maylock gave him a brief hug. "Good to see you, Edmund. You two will be with Martin in Cabin A."

* * *

Madam Fawley arrived at the Preserve while Edmund and Neville were being given a tour of the Camp's grounds by Martin, who would also be attending that year. She was there when the trio of boys returned to the Main Lodge, where the three Britons had lunch with Martin, Dolly, Helen, and Mr. Maylock, who announced he'd be one of the Potions instructors for the camp. His friendly demeanor was a significant contrast to the Hogwarts' Potions Master, and Edmund could see Neville was far more relaxed about the potions portion.

The curriculum for the camp was discussed briefly by the adults, with the kids listening in. The students would arrive after lunch on the following day, coming from all over the world. The first week would be dedicated purely to Herbology and identifying fauna that was indigenous to the Forest and the Northeastern United States. At the start of the second week, they'd be introduced to potions and using the ingredients they would be using in them. The third week would increase the difficulty of the potions and the fourth week would examine an even more difficult levels of Herbology, such as harvesting a Venomous Tentacula.

The end of lunch was marked by Madam Fawley's return to Britain. There was a Ministry Ball being thrown by the Minister to receive the new Bulgarian Minister for Magic in London and as the wife of the Second Highest Diplomat in Magical Britain, her attendance was imperative. After she left, the boys were excused, and Martin led them to a pond, where they quickly stripped and swam to avoid the summer heat that even the dark shade of the forest couldn't completely block. It was truly a heavenly day, Edmund thought as he organized his things alongside Neville in Cabin A.

"Alright, boys," Martin announced, coming into the Cabin and plopping down on his bed across from Neville's. "Now that the grown-ups have all gone to bed we can talk freely."

"Gossiping like girls you mean," Edmund smirked as he sat on the bed next to Neville's. "We can call it what it is."

"You wound me, friend," Martin clutched his heart. "Here I haven't seen you in a year and all the information I get is in vague letters."

"Oh very well," he muttered. "What do you wish to know?"

"Tell me about Hogwarts, to start with," he said eagerly. "And about your houses."

Edmund recounted the story of his sorting into Slytherin for Martin while Neville listened in. Both boys listened with rapt attention until he got to the part where he was punched by Malfoy in the dormitory. Martin's anger was only compounded by Neville's sympathy.

"You should've socked him a new one, then!" he exclaimed. "Make him see you're better!"

"Malfoy hasn't been as bad as I expected," Neville said thoughtfully. "Ever since he got docked almost one-hundred points in the beginning of the year no one seemed to take him seriously."

"It was only seventy," Edmund corrected. "But I daresay it successfully lost him any credibility he had within our house. I heard Cain Wesley say at the end of the year that without Malfoy we would have had enough points to put us in such a lead Gryffindor wouldn't have been able to catch up to even with Dumbledore's favoritism."

"That's because Harry Potter saved the school," Neville interjected. "He defeated a grown teacher!"

At this, Martin looked very interested. "Tell me more, come on now. What's it like to be friends with the boy who saved Wizarding Britain?"

Edmund looked at Neville. He had only had one interaction with Potter and if he could help it, no one who didn't need to know about it would ever know. Neville on the other hand, shared a dormitory with him, as well as all their classes. The only class Slytherin shared with Gryffindor was Potions, and Edmund had always kept his distance, preferring to focus on his work and avoiding the attention of Professor Snape.

Neville, realizing he had to step up, turned beet-red as both Edmund and Martin looked to him with interest. "Harry is well, er, rather nice," he managed to get out. "He's a nice bloke, no one really talks to him though, mind you, except Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

"Ugh… Granger," Edmund groaned. "If there was anyone more annoying besides Malfoy.."

"She really isn't that bad," Neville began defensively.

Edmund rolled his eyes briefly. "Honestly Longbottom, you are safe here, among Purebloods. You don't have to hide your disdain for muggle culture."

Martin snorted while Neville remained silent, but Edmund was not paying enough attention to catch the narrowed look he received from the Gryffindor boy. "So, tell us about Ilvermorny, Martin. I'm dying to know."

Martin spent the next hour detailing his life at Ilvermorny Castle, where witches and wizards of America were educated. From his selection as a member of the Wampus House to some of his exploits pranking the girls in his year, he seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed his time at school. As he was explaining the Ilvermorny Sorting to Neville, Edmund felt sleep take him, and was soon sleeping soundly in the warm confines of Cabin A.

* * *

"Hand me the essence of stinksap," Edmund reached his dragonskin gloves out just in time for a large wad of the sticky substance to land in them. "Make sure you're crushing the beans to drain the juice, cutting won't drain them completely."

The Maylock Herbology Camp was in its final days. Edmund had been separated from both Neville and Martin on the first day and put into a group of five. He was the only Hogwarts student in his group. There were two students from Beauxbatons, Henri and Lucille, one from Uagadou in Africa, Benjamin, and Sakiko, a girl from Mahoutokoro in Japan. The five had learned to work closely with each other and had formed quick friendships that enabled them to work together quickly and efficiently. Edmund had been slightly nervous to be separated from Neville but was relieved to see that the nervous-prone Gryffindor had been paired into a group with Martin, and at dinner and in the Cabin did nothing but rave about the entire experience.

The first week, for Edmund had been the hardest. He came to the conclusion that getting his hands dirty was not something that he enjoyed on a regular basis, or any basis at all really. Luckily, both Sakiko and Henri had a knack for harvesting some of the plants that were particularly difficult. Lucille and Benjamin were excellent with identifying some of the rarer plants and materials the group had to collect, and Edmund was the potioneer. He had felt himself struggle briefly in the first week, but Mr. Maylock was an excellent instructor and Edmund had managed to overcome much of his disdain for the subject. When the second week came, he was prepared to take charge during the potions section. Mr. Maylock instructed them on how each of the plants harvested in the first week could be used in potions, listing many of their properties before setting them to work on making a sleeping draught. It had been a relatively simple task, as all students had completed their first year of school and had been required to brew the standard draught. This time, they simply had to use different ingredients.

The level of difficulty increased dramatically in the third week, with the instructors giving each group a different potion each day. With only their notes on the flora and fauna of the forest and their prior knowledge of potions, they had to find and harvest the materials to create a potion that met the objective given to them by the instructors. Sakiko and Edmund proved to be a formidable pair, with the small Japanese girl matching the sketches she had taken in her notes to many of the plants that they needed, while Edmund's knowledge of potions helped determine the quantity of ingredients needed and the order in which they were added to their potion.

The final week had asked them to do the same thing, but with a much more dangerous caliber of plants. They had begun with the venomous tentacula which after combining with essence of dittany and mirkbark, formed a type of herbicide. Now, on the last day, they had worked with Mandrakes to create a replenishing potion. The project was made more difficult when they learned that at least one typically poisonous material had to be in the draught and be rendered harmless through the combination of materials. Benjamin had brainstormed the idea of combining both Mandrake leaves and stinksap with red-pickled caps, which was known to cause rashes and irritation on the skin.

"I need to put throw in the caps before I use the Mandrake leaves," Edmund muttered to Lucille, who was holding the said leaves she and Henri had spent almost an hour harvesting from fully grown Mandrakes. "If our theory is right, then the stinksap should provide a base foundation which will counteract the caps when they are added." As he stirred the stinksap counter-clockwise, Sakiko carefully one by one added the caps to the mixture, turning the potion from a dark green to a disgusting shade of yellow. "Leaves. Now!" Edmund barked just before Lucille dumped them all into the potion. Immediately upon the first leaves contact, it seemed to burn up, and Edmund quickly changed directions of the stirring to clockwise, but the leaves were still burning.

"We need another balancing substance," he called out.

"Try the dittany," Henri called out as he poured a good deal of the flowers into the cauldron.

Sure enough, the color of the potion did not change from its sickly yellow, but the dittany didn't burn up like the mandrake leaves. "Put more in, but crush the dittany into a powder, first," Edmund told Henri. "Then we will add in more Mandrake leaves when the potion is stabilized."

An hour later, the potion had gone from the sickly yellow to a bronze-like color. "It should be done, now," Benjamin, who had given Edmund a break from stirring, looked up from the cauldron.

"Did I hear correctly that your brew has been completed?" the booming voice of Mr. Maylock surprised the group from behind.

'Yes, sir," Benjamin said, stepping away from the workstation to join his group watching apprehensively.

The Potionmaster gazed at the motion for a good while, studying the workstation and carefully wafting some of the scent up to his nose. "Ms. Iltis," he finally said. "What type of replenishing draught did your group attempt to create today?"

"A skin replenishment potion, sir," Lucille said carefully. The potion should be able to replenish skin by killing off acne and other harmful bacteria in the skin.

"Interesting. And what did you use to manage that, Mr. Akwasi?"

"We believed that if we countered the effect of red-pickled caps, we could also reverse its purpose, sir," Benjamin spoke up.

"How, Mr. St. Germain?"

"Our main ingredients included dittany, stinksap, and mandrake leaves. We used the stinksap as a base and mixed the caps in before adding dittany and mandrake leaves. We switched to powdered dittany for a stronger effect," Henri said, before listing off several of the other minor ingredients.

When he was finished, Mr. Maylock took another look at the potion, this time actually bending down to smell it. "Ms. Nakahara, what made you choose stinksap?"

"The thickness of the substance, sir," Sakiko answered easily. "We realized it was not enough early on however, which is why we added the dittany."

"Conclude, Mr. Fawley," the instructor commanded.

"The stinksap was the correct idea, sir," Edmund began. "But after the mandrake leaves were initially placed in, the mixture of caps and stinksap was not neutral enough. We thought the stinksap would be enough, but we were wrong."

"Your logic was flawed," Mr. Maylock agreed. "But I daresay your improvisation was a great success. In the future I think it would be more prudent to also add calendula to the stinksap. It's a no-maj plant, granted, but it is common enough and actually will strengthen the stinksap perhaps more effectively then the dittany. Well done. You are dismissed."

Bottling a sample of the potion, Mr. Maylock swept away to examine the work of other groups who were now finished. Edmund breathed a sigh of relief as he turned to his group, all who wore smiles on their faces. They were done, and they had done well. Looking over, he saw one of the other instructors, Ms. Pike looking at Martin and Neville's group. He made a mental note to catch up with the two of them later as he turned back to the conversation currently underway in his group.

"We are going for a swim in the pond," Sakiko told him. "There's too much time before dinner to waste it not cooling off."

Smiling, Edmund followed the group back to the campground clearing. The preserve was entirely outside except for the cabins and the lodge. Even the potion stations were only under a cover. The girls split from the boys to go to their section to change and shortly after, Edmund split from Benjamin and Henri to go to his Cabin while the two other boys entered the other boys cabin. Quickly shedding his robes for swim trunks and a towel, he made his way back out to the pond to meet up with the rest of his group.

Sakiko was the only one who had arrived at the clearing, sitting on the banks of the lake in a dark red one-piece that contrasted starkly with her long jet-black hair. She smiled at Edmund as he joined her, sitting on one of the logs that had long since settled on the grainy shore. "I'm so glad that's over," the girl said after a moment, her English nearly perfect with only a hint of accent.

Edmund stayed silent, privately agreeing with her. The camp had been an amazing experience, but it had also been grueling. There were early mornings and long days spent discussing rather complex techniques involved in Herbology, and Edmund had to apply a salve daily for the sunburn he had received despite the shade of the forest canopy.

"What will you do for the remainder of your holiday?" he finally asked Sakiko. He had grown quite close to the Japanese girl over the past month and the two had already committed to staying in touch. The girl had invited him and Benjamin to her family's Shōen outside Matsuyama City in the south of Japan for a week in the end of the summer and Edmund was hoping his father would allow him to visit. Neither Merry nor Sullivan had ever been to Japan and he was determined to go there before the both of them. As long as he had completed his summer schoolwork, he couldn't foresee a problem.

"Not much," Sakiko shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll probably play some quidditch and finish my schoolwork. My Potions Professor, Sensei Watanabe assigned us so much work I have no idea how I will get it done."

"I know the feeling," Edmund groaned, thinking about the pile of homework he had to do just for Professor Snape. "What is it about Potions and the amount of work required for them?"

His question was left unanswered, as Benjamin, Henri, and Lucille had finally joined them. The three boys instantly took to the water, seeking solace from the heat in its cool embrace. Benjamin challenged the two to a diving competition to see who could touch the bottom of the lake, which none of them were able to do. Sakiko and Lucille did not join them so far into the depth of the water, but eventually started a splashing contest with the boys that lasted for the remainder of the afternoon. It had been a blissful way, Edmund thought, as he toweled himself off as the group headed back to get ready for dinner, to finish his time at the Preserve.

* * *

The following morning was a hectic affair of last minute packing, tearful goodbyes to new friends made with promises to write, and introductions with parents that were less than pleased with the time wasted. "Where are we going, Edmund?" Ned Fawley demanded as he was pulled through a crowd of parents by his son.

"Please, father," Edmund began. "You should meet my new friends."

Ned Fawley had arrived early in the morning with Neville's Grandmother, just as the new graduated of the Maylock Preserve's Herbology Camp had finished their breakfast. The parents had then attended a reception with Director and Mr. Maylock and their staff before meeting up with their children. The Fawleys had left Madam Longbottom and Neville at the Cabin so that Neville could finish packing, while Edmund had spent the next fifteen minutes attempting to find Sakiko and Benjamin in the clearing.

Finally, he spotted Sakiko and Benjamin with their respective parents. Benjamin's uncle had picked him up, and the two were as different as night and day. While Benjamin was slight and slim, his uncle was large and burly, covered in tattoos that Benjamin told him were the markings of a warrior. Benjamin had been raised in a tribe, where it was customary to receive markings once they came of age and had graduated from Uagadou. Sakiko on the other hand was a spitting image of her father. Mr. Nakahara had slicked-back black hair and a stern visage that looked as if chiseled out of marble.

As Edmund reached his friends and their parents, he stopped to introduce his father. "Father," he gestured to them. "These are my new friends, Sakiko Nakahara and Benjamin Akwasi."

Ned Fawley introduced himself to the children and then exchanged greetings with their guardians. Both Benjamin's uncle and Mr. Nakahara had apparently heard of Ned Fawley. Edmund had known his father was incredibly popular internationally, more so then in Britain, but he had never seen two strangers cozy up to him so instantaneously.

"Ambassador Fawley," Mr. Nakahara gave Ned Fawley a small bow. "Shinzo Nakahara. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"George Akwasi, Lord Ambassador," Benjamin's uncle extended his hand. My tribe is grateful for the work you do in Geneva."

Ever the diplomat, Ned bowed to Mr. Nakahara, although Edmund noticed he did not go as low, and returned Mr. Akwasi's hand. "A pleasure to meet you both, gentlemen. A friend of my son's is a friend of mine."

As the adults conversed for a time, Sakiko, Benjamin, and Edmund huddled together to make plans to visit the Nakahara lands at the end of the summer. After a few goodbyes filled with promises to write, the adults separated the three friends, Ned Fawley leading Edmund back to where they had last seen Neville and Madame Longbottom. Edmund felt somewhat bad he had barely talked to Martin or Neville compared to the people in his own group, but they both seemed to have a good time themselves in their own group.

Neville had just moved his trunk out of the cabin as they met him and his grandmother, Martin ambled over to join them as Mr. Fawley and Madam Longbottom talked with Director Maylock, who had come from the lodge to bid them goodbye.

"Are you excited to get your wand, Neville?" Edmund asked.

"He should be," Martin exclaimed. "He is getting one from Jonker and he is simply the best."

"Well we can guess who made your wand," Edmund said, making an extra effort to coat his voice with sarcasm, which was well rewarded with a snort from Neville. Turning to Martin, he gave his friend a quick hug. "Write all about Ilvermorny," he said.

"Don't worry, Edmund," Martin returned the embrace. "You write as well. Both of you."

The three friends were interrupted by a stern cough behind them. "Neville, dear," Madam Longbottom gazed imperiously down at them. "We best be off."

"As should we," Ned Fawley checked his timepiece. "Thank you so much for everything, Helen."

"It was our pleasure, Ned. And very nice to meet you, Augusta," Director Maylock shook hands with the other two adults. "Edmund and Neville did very well."

Madam Longbottom turned away to levitate Neville's trunk, but Edmund could've sworn he saw a hint of pride in her smile. That was good, he thought to himself. Neville could use some pride from his family.

"Ready, lad?" his father asked.

"Yes, father," Edmund smiled. So far, his summer was going very well.

* * *

 **A/N:** _There ends the chapter. I think one more chapter and the summer should be over and onto Year Two at Hogwarts. I hope to be posting much more regularly in the summer months. Let me know what you all think!_

 _As for the potion... I made it all up. Very little in the Herbology Camp was canon, but I believed it is important to include as it establishes some connections that we will be seeing again much later down the road._


	13. Chapter 13

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **Elk99**

 **A/N:** Terribly sorry for the late chapter. Life happened. I'm back to getting on a schedule however so I hope to be more timely. The summer was also kind of a drag to write because I'm still providing the background. Next chapter will be the school year!

* * *

Ireland was a dreary place in comparison to the heat of North America, Edmund had decided early upon his return to Promenade-On-Finn. It was his second day home and the steady downpour had persisted. No one had been there to greet him at the door beside Worrow. Madam Fawley had taken Sullivan to a Quidditch match in Norway, and Grandfather Fawley was spending the week at St. Midabaria. The extensive collection at An Glóirmhar was undergoing a records review with Simon and Michael Fawley the only ones allowed access. Edmund's father had quickly left to deal with a crisis at the Ministry and Daphne would not be back from Greece for another day.

Bored, Edmund trudged through the Prom's Library. Not as extensive as An Glóirmhar, he had read many of the books on the shelves, those that he had not either held little interest for him or were too advanced. He had already sent letters to his friends, and he knew Ptolemy would be a good while returning with their responses. Had Meredith been home, he could have bugged her to accompany him to Diagon Alley. In the past, her version of accompanying him had been going to Twilfitt and Tattings and WonderWitch while he was expected to meet her at Gringotts after a few hours. Such freedom was now impossible as there was no way he could go make a trip to London without provoking the wrath of Madam Fawley, or the stern disapproval of his father and grandfather.

Returning to his room seemed to be the only option. Edmund had grown to love the emerald and silver drawings his mother had set in his room. It was a truly homey feel. He had set a few pictures on the wall. One of him with he Slytherin Quidditch team, one of him and his siblings in Geneva in front of the Headquarters of the International Confederation of Wizards, and one of him, Daphne, Tracey, Helen, and Blaise towards the end of the year, relaxing underneath one of the willow trees on the shore of the Black Lake. A new picture was hung up on the wall, it was a photo taken of the entire class at the Preserve. He could see himself standing next to Benjamin and Sakiko, right in front of Neville and Martin.

Plopping down to his bed he began reading another Horatio Manfred book. This one was slightly larger than _A Murder in Diagon Alley_ had been, it was one of his older books that Gemma had given him at the end of the year. This one was about a young British wizard in the aftermath of Grindelwald's War who was kidnapped by the Russian Ministry of Magic. It was considerably darker than some of the other Manfred books Edmund had read in the past, and he was fairly certain his mother would not approve of the content. The hero, Hector Gladstone, was a womanizer and a drunk, hardly the type of role model Elodie Fawley would appreciate her youngest child reading about. Nonetheless, Gladstone was an amazingly talented wizard who used illusory effects to confuse his captors and always come out on top.

Engrossed in the book, Edmund didn't hear the door to his bedroom open, nor the soft padding of feet on the dark green carpet approaching his bed. "I really should take that book away from you," Edmund jumped as his mother's voice startles him from the novel. "But I know any books I forbid will just ensure you read them anyway."

"Sorry, mum," Edmund put the book down as he sat up on his bed. "It's Manfred."

"I could tell," Elodie Fawley's mouth quirked upwards for a moment before sitting next to her son on the bed. "I just wanted to say hello. Your brother and I returned only a few moments ago."

"How was the match," Edmund asked curiously. The match had been a semifinal for the Scandinavian Cup between one of the Norwegian and Finnish teams. Sullivan was a fan of Skien's team, Edmund knew, which is where the match was held.

"Skien lost," Madam Fawley sighed rubbing her temples briefly. "Your brother is in a surly mood that they will not be advancing to the final against Uppsala, but it is no matter. Ballycastle is doing well this year so I'm sure the both of you will be running about the house causing headaches with your raucous chants soon enough."

"It's serious business, mother," Edmund did his best to keep his voice stern and serious. "The pride of our Isle resides on the shoulders of the Ballycastle Bats."

"You've been spending too much time with your Grandfather," she chuckled briefly. "Now tell me all about Herbology Camp."

Edmund told his mother everything from after she left to when his father picked him up on graduation day. He explained the Cabin set up and went into great detail about the curriculum, which he knew she would be interested in. Finally, he finished telling her about his group's improvised replenishment potion and conveyed Sakiko's invitation to both him and Benjamin to Japan.

Elodie Fawley smiled at her son's enthusiasm. She was happy he was making friends with Neville Longbottom as well as friends from around the Wizarding World. After Edmund had been sorted into Slytherin, she and her husband had worried greatly about what this would mean for his relations with other people. It wasn't the House of Slytherin itself that had bothered them, nor was it the fact that the first Fawley in generations had been sorted into a house other than Hufflepuff. It was due to the people such as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's son that gave them pause. She had heard many things from Pomona Sprout about some of the children of her political rivals on the Wizengamot that gave her great pause when thinking about Slytherin House. Luckily, Edmund seemed to have found friends in his house that were far from the likes of the Malfoys and Averys.

"So, can I expect an O in Herbology next year?" she arched her eyebrows at him.

"We'll see," Edmund responded cheekily.

"I'll need more than that If I am letting you go gallivanting off to Japan, Edmund," his mother said, getting up from the bed and heading towards the door. "Dinner will be served in the kitchen tonight," she called out from the hallway. "Your father is working late at the Ministry." With that, she closed the door behind her, leaving a shocked but excited Edmund. Japan was all he could think about.

* * *

 _In conclusion, the shrinking charm can be used on wizards and witches, but must be done with great care and only with proper knowledge of the counter, the enlarging charm, 'Engorgio,' beforehand._ Edmund added the last period to his Charms essay for Professor Flitwick, thus ending his summer homework. Flitwick had assigned two scrolls, one on theory, and the other on the practical application of charms on animate objects. He had saved Charms, his favorite for last and after a quick review of the two-foot scroll, he rolled it up and stamped it with the Fawley Seal. He had gotten into the habit of sealing his scrolls upon completion after he found Vincent Crabbe copying his Transfiguration essay last February. It was a bit unconventional, but none of his Professors had complained.

He picked up both of his scrolls for Professor Flitwick and wrapped them together with a deep emerald ribbon his mother had given him after he was sorted into Slytherin. His mother was a firm believer that any self-respecting gentleman-in-training should send their correspondence, personal or professional, with a signature ribbon. Tying the scrolls together, he carried them to Ptolemy who was sitting on the windowsill next to his desk. "Can you bring these to Professor Flitwick?" he asked his owl, who in turn hooted in indignation at the idea that he couldn't. Ruffling his feathers, the Eagle Owl stretched out his wings before taking the scrolls and flying out of the open window.

He was glad his Professors allowed summer assignments to be sent in before the start of term. While not a burden necessarily, the number of scrolls he went through would take up more space in his trunk that could be used for other things. Merry had always sent her homework in early. Sullivan preferred to keep his until the first day of classes in order to compare with his friends the night before. Edmund had very little interest in such collaboration. It only gave a greater advantage to others, something he was not inclined to allow. Even when studying with Daphne and his housemates, the most they would share were vague topics and clarifying answers.

With all his work done and sent to Hogwarts, he took a look at the small clock he kept next to his desk. It was half past eleven, more than enough time to bug his mother to let him go to Greengrass Manor for the afternoon. Daphne had returned from Greece two days ago and had written to him, inviting him to come over. His mother had demanded his homework be finished before he went and he had worked all morning to ensure it was complete.

"Worrow," he called as he walked along the balcony overlooking the Hall. The house elf appeared in front of him with a crack.

"Young Master," she bowed.

"Do you know where my Mother is?" Edmund asked. Madam Fawley, unlike Ned and Simon Fawley, was unpredictable in terms of what she was doing at a given moment. Edmund could often find both his father and grandfather in a set two or three locations at any time of day. His mother, however, never seemed to stay in one place around the Estate for long.

"She is in the Observatory, young Master," Worrow responded. "Should I notify her you are coming?"

"That won't be necessary," Edmund replied. Better to give his mother less time to prepare, and less time to give him something to do. "Thank you, Worrow."

As the elf popped out of sight, Edmund turned down a hallway that would lead up the Observatory. His mother could often be found there when she was writing her correspondence. She claimed that the natural light of the Observatory and its position as the tallest point of the house gave her clarity.

The Observatory was a large and airy chamber underneath a massive dome that could be seen from outside the estate. In the evenings, the glass dome showed the stars and the constellations from a much closer vantage. It was similar to the ceiling of the Hogwarts' Great Hall.

Madam Fawley was sitting at a small bureau positioned at one end of the circular chamber. A violin had been charmed to play a quiet melody as she sat writing. As a member of the Wizengamot, Edmund's mother spent a great deal of time writing letters, as well as receiving them. While occupying a hereditary seat for the House of Fawley, she made an effort to listen carefully to issues brought to her attention by the Wizards and Witches living in Donegal County and Ulster.

"Mother," he called out, approaching the bureau. "I sent my last scroll to Hogwarts."

"And I suppose you wish to go to Kent, now?" she asked without looking up from her writing.

"Yes, please," Edmund shifted nervously.

"Stop shifting," his mother rebuked, once again not looking up. "Floo call the Greengrasses and ask whether it is alright with them."

"Thanks, mum!" Edmund hurried out of the Observatory and down the winding stairs. After a few minutes, he ran into the Hall, slightly out of breath. Taking some floo powder from the box on top of the mantle, he threw it into the hearth and called out Greengrass Manor!"

Placing his head gingerly into the flames, he was afforded a view of the main parlor of Greengrass Manor. "Edmund!" the familiar voice of his best friend was heard just outside of his periphery.

Soon enough, the blonde locks of Daphne Greengrass came into view, her pale face tanned from exposure to the Mediterranean sun.

"Hey, Daphne," he greeted his housemate. "I finished the last of my homework and mother said I could come over for the afternoon if it is still alright."

"Brilliant!" she exclaimed excitedly. "You can join us for lunch."

"I'll floo over in about ten minutes," Edmund promised before taking his head out of the flames.

Only a little while later, after rushing to the Observatory to let his mother know, Edmund hopped out of the fireplace and into the parlor of Greengrass Manor, where he was quickly met with a hug from Daphne.

"I'm so glad you're here!" She started talking in a rush. "Greece was great of course but it's just been me and Astoria and my parents and letters just aren't the same and Tracey won't be back for a good time yet and you were in America for a month and it has just been so hard I had to play with Malfoy and Pansy one day and their egos are gigantic and"

She was cut off further as Edmund placed a hand on her lips. "It's good to see you too, Daphne," he couldn't but laugh at the word vomit that had escaped his normally reserved friend.

"Give the poor boy a rest, Daphne," chuckled a smiling Madam Greengrass, who had entered the room with Astoria in tow. "Young Master Fawley," she held out her hand to Edmund, who kissed the ring in observance of Pureblood custom.

"Madam Greengrass," he returned the acknowledgment. "I hope you are well after your trip."

"I am, thank you," she smiled again. "Come, lunch is served on the patio."

Edmund followed a blushing Daphne and her sister out onto the patio overlooking the extensive lands that surrounded Greengrass Manor. The table was set with a variety of sandwiches and juice. As he was taught, he waited until Daphne and her mother and sister were seated before sitting down, himself, next to Daphne and across from her mother. The four enjoyed lunch, with the Greengrasses regaling him with stories of their time in Greece. Edmund laughed as he heard stories of Daphne falling off of the family boat after Astoria scared her as she was leaning over the edge.

They spent time after lunch in the pastures, where Daphne began teaching him how to ride a horse. Edmund had never seen the appeal but had been convinced by his friend to try it out. It was nothing like a broom, he had decided, falling off many times in front of a laughing Daphne and Astoria, who had practically been raised in the saddle. Eventually, after a few hours, he began to get the hang of it before Daphne led his Chestnut Horse back to the barn.

"You are going to be so sore tomorrow," she giggled as she helped him down.

"Oh bugger it," he mumbled good naturedly as they made their way to one of the benches on the outside of the paddock, Astoria having left a while ago. "Not that I'm doing much tomorrow anyway with all my homework done."

"Don't remind me," Daphne moaned. "I still have Flitwick's and Binns' homework to do."

"Pfff. Flitwick's was easy."

"His class is hard," she shot back before resting her head on Edmund's shoulder. "What else do you have to do this summer?"

"Nothing really. I think mum is going to let me go to Japan to visit my friends from the camp which should be exciting."

"Oh," something in Daphne's voice sounded a bit off, but Edmund couldn't pit his finger on it. "Is this that girl, Sakiko?"

"Yes, my other friend Benjamin and I are going to visit her, I hope," he said eagerly. "She's great."

"I'm sure she is," Daphne's mumble went unnoticed by Edmund.

* * *

The remainder of the summer went by very quickly. Edmund spent a lot of time with Daphne and had even been able to invite Adrian Pucey and Theodore Nott over for a visit. With Daphne, he spent a great deal of time talking about pureblood customs and politics in the Wizengamot. With Adrian and Theo, they played Quidditch and exploding snap. He felt lucky that the two older boys had accepted him as a friend.

In the last week of July, he found himself waiting with his father in the Ministry in the Department of Magical Transportation's Foreign Arrivals Office. His parents had finally consented to him going to Japan to visit Sakiko and he had coordinated with Benjamin who would be coming to Britain first, and then the two boys would go to Japan together with Edmund's father.

They three friends had organized the trip so that Benjamin came to Britain on the monthly portkey from Dakar, and sure enough when the arrival doors opened a steady stream of researchers filed out, followed at last by Benjamin and a man he assumed was Mr. Akwasi. Benjamin looked awestruck at first at the grandeur on display. He and his father went through the security desk, showing their wand to the guard before being waved through to where Edmund and Ned Fawley were waiting. The two boys greeted each other, and Benjamin introduced the Fawleys to his father. John Akwasi was a large man, larger than his brother who had picked Benjamin up in America. The two talked briefly before they all departed the Ministry. Benjamin looked awestruck by the British Ministry, and the attention drawn to Edmund's father.

"First time in Britain?" Edmund asked him.

"Yeah," Benjamin breathed. "Don't get me wrong our Ministry is impressive, but this is just so different."

"What does yours look like?" Edmund asked, curious for more information on other Wizarding groups.

"It's a large cavern, filled with relics of past conquests," Benjamin started. "It's a bit hard to describe actually."

Edmund just nodded, resolving to explore these cultures someday. He'd beg his father to take him on one of his diplomatic visits next summer. They group of four walked through the Atrium and past the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Benjamin looked to ask his father a question, but John Akwasi quieted him and resumed talking to Edmund's father.

Edmund was instantly intrigued. Obviously, the fountain rubbed Benjamin the wrong way, but he decided it was better to not ask about it.

"We live at Promenade-On-Finn," Ned Fawley told the Akwasis before gesturing for Edmund to go first through the floo.

The floo network at the Ministry was constantly active, and as a result, no floo powder had to be placed in the already emerald flames. "Promenade-On-Finn!" Edmund called out clearly before he was swept away and to the landing that stood near the gate of the Fawley Estate. Benjamin followed afterward and then his father, before Ned Fawley stepped out of the hearth. "Welcome to the Promenade," he said as he walked towards the gate.

Benjamin was once again awestruck by the sheer size of the Estate. "This is amazing," he whispered to Edmund as they walked behind their fathers. Edmund merely smiled.

Dinner that night was a luxurious affair in the main dining room, with the Fawley Crest and Colors on full display. As they did in formal occasions, Grandfather Fawley switched places with his son and sat at the head of the table, while Ned sat on his left side. John Akwasi was afforded the seat of honor on the right side, while Sullivan Edmund and Benjamin flanked Madam Fawley at the end of the table.

Worrow had outdone herself with a feast of roasted lamb and potatoes followed by a dessert of bread pudding. Ned Fawley and John Akwasi got alone famously and discussed matters of the International Confederation of Wizards. The children listened as the adults moved to topics such as the state of affairs of Hogwarts, where Simon Fawley was a Governor, to the new curriculum at Uagadou mandated by the ICW. The conversation carried on well past dinner, resulting in Ned Fawley having Worrow switch from the Elven Wine to the Ogden's Firewhiskey, the kids were even allowed to have an extra butterbeer.

Edmund led Benjamin to one of the guest rooms after dinner. The next day they would be departing for Japan to stay with the Nakahara's for a week.

* * *

Having been used to international portkey travel many a time now, both Edmund and Benjamin managed to hold onto their breakfasts as they landed on a plush carpeted room surrounded by tapestries portraying what looked to be Japanese duelists.

"Lord Ambassador!" the voice belonging to a small man eagerly walking towards them interrupted Edmund from his examination of the artwork. "Welcome to Japan!"

Edmund watched his father exchange greetings with the British Ambassador. He had met Ambassador Kidd once before at a Party at Promenade-on-Finn, and from what he remembered, his father was no fan of him. His grandfather had once privately referred to the Ambassador as merely a stooge of Barty Crouch. Looking at the small plump being giving lip service and platitudes to his father, Edmund couldn't help the feelings of disdain.

Ambassador Kidd led Edmund, Benjamin, and Mr. Fawley out of the square portkey room and into a well-lit series of halls and passageways which was seemingly deserted. "First time in Japan, aye lads?" he asked Edmund and Benjamin. "Probably used to a more bustling atmosphere I reckon. Not here though, the Japanese leave portkeys to the Diplomatic Corps. If they see someone they don't like they have their own security for that. Makes our job easier it does…"

The Ambassador continued to talk a mile a minute as he described how the Japanese Ministry chose to keep Diplomatic Portkeys out of their own Ministry as to avoid the virulent energy they believed were caused by Portkeys. Under any normal circumstance, talk about another culture would have fascinated the youngest Fawley, but he just couldn't bring himself to be interested in anything the over-energetic man was saying.

Finally, they reached the exit of the Embassy, where after a quick handshake from Ambassador Kidd, the trio found themselves on the streets of the Magical Community in Kyoto, which was the Magical Capital of Japan. The British Embassy which now loomed before them must have been heavily charmed because the noise of the bustling community before them hit like a tidal wave as soon as they stepped off the doorstep.

Edmund's father had been in Kyoto before and led them through the crowded streets straight into a team room. Once again, Edmund was amazed at how the thin walls were charmed to keep the noise entirely outside. A small man by the door led them through the team room and through another door which led into a room decidedly more European. Standing next to a dark wooden table was Mr. Nakahara and Sakiko.

The latter wasted no time rushing over to her friends and embracing them, despite looks of disapproval from her father, who bowed to Ned Fawley. "Lord Ambassador, you honor us with your presence."

Ned Fawley returned the bow. "Thank you for the welcome, Mr. Nakahara."

"How long will you be staying in Japan, sir?"

"Not long at all. I'll be leaving tomorrow in the evening after a meeting with the Minister."

"You must join us for dinner, then," Mr. Nakahara insisted.

* * *

The Nakahara Shōen near Matsuyama City was incredibly hot, being in the almost tropical climate of Southern Japan. From the hill where he stood, Edmund could see all of the muggle city below him. Mr. Nakahara had led them to a floo depot, where they traveled to the Nakahara's residence. Sakiko had immediately taken him and Benjamin on a tour of the household, while Ned Fawley was introduced to Sakiko's mother.

The Nakahara's lived in a house the reminded Edmund of a muggle landscape painting. Everything was so still and tranquil. As the days went on, they played Quidditch with some of Sakiko's friends from school, raced on the Nakahara set of Nimbuses, and went swimming in the pond almost every day. Mr. Nakahara was a strong proponent of physical activity and sent the children out of the house after breakfast every morning. The evenings were taken up by going to Kyoto and exploring the tourist locations of Magical Kyoto, such as the home of the Japanese Martial Dueling Association and the Museum of the Pacific, which housed relics from the numerous conflicts among Asian Wizardkind, including wizarding involvement in muggle conflicts. Edmund had been particularly interested in the snapped wand of Eito, a Japanese Shogun who waged war with China in the Middle Ages.

On the last day, the three friends lounged in the shade of the willows surrounding the Nakahara's pond after a few hours of swimming. "We should do this every summer," Sakiko commented, lazily stretching in the grass.

"Come to Japan?" Benjamin snorted. "Fine by me!"

"No," Sakiko rolled her eyes. "I meant visiting each other."

"Both of you are welcome to visit me next year at my tribe," Benjamin offered.

"That would work perfectly," Edmund smiled. "That way you both could visit me and visit the World Cup at the same time the summer after. Father already has tickets!"

So, it was agreed that Sakiko and Edmund would ask their fathers for permission to visit the Akwasi's in Ghana and the following year, Sakiko and Benjamin would visit England for the World Cup.

The three chatted about Quidditch for a time and England's chances of actually making the cup before Sakiko asked another question. "You're in Harry Potter's year, are you not, Edmund?"

Benjamin, who had been in the midst of laughing at a joke, instantly quieted and turned to look at him. Edmund quickly realized it was a question they had both thought of before but hadn't wanted to ask until now.

"I do," he shrugged. "But we are in different houses and don't interact much. He's a Gryffindor and I'm a Slytherin, essentially rivals." Harry Potter was not Edmund's favorite person, not particularly because he was famous or anything, but because he was a Gryffindor and did everything he could to tick off Professor Snape. He also may have been a little upset at Potter's accumulation of points at the last minute, taking the House Cup away from Slytherin.

"Have you ever talked to him?" Sakiko pressed further, determined to get more information.

"Once," Edmund answered, thinking back to the beginning of the year when he ratted out Malfoy to Potter and his friends. "Neville though, you met him, my friend from Hogwarts? At camp? He's in Gryffindor with Potter. Eats with him, sleeps in the same room as him, and all that. He's the one to ask."

Sakiko huffed. "I wish I had known that."

"He's the savior of Britain," Benjamin chuckled. "I'm sure he's treated like a Chief wherever he goes."

"You'd be surprised," Edmund interjected. "I think the only obstacle to approaching him is he seems to get into trouble everywhere. He lost fifty points for his house overnight with two other friends and the entire school went ballistic."

"The only person to survive the killing curse…" The awe in Sakiko's eyes was evident.

"He's really rather underwhelming," Edmund, tired of talking about the happy-go-lucky Gryffindor, said with a fair amount of snark.

Sakiko never got to respond, because at that moment the Nakahara House Elf appeared to call them in for Benjamin and Edmund's last dinner in Japan.

* * *

Edmund was picked up at the British Ministry of Magic the next day by his Grandfather, who was waiting for him at the gates of the International Entrance to the Portkey Authority. Immediately, Edmund's guard was up as he felt his mind assaulted by multiple probes, stopping almost as quickly as it began.

His grandfather was wearing dark purple robes with streaks of silver throughout. His own silver hair, while not as long as Dumbledore's cut an imposing figure, and it was evident by the berth he was given that many shared that assessment. "Excellent reflexes, but your shield should be second nature, part of you, not merely a tool," he admonished Edmund as he came into earshot.

"Sorry, grandfather," Edmund quickly kissed the Fawley signet ring before briefly hugging his grandfather.

"Work on it, laddie, work on it," Simon Fawley chuckled as he led his grandson out to the lifts. "You are one of the fastest and most natural occlumens I have ever heard of. You will get it eventually."

"How have things been since I've been gone?" Edmund asked.

"The world kept turning," Simon chuckled. "Your brother had a Quidditch game last night. It looks like his team will take the league title this summer."

"Did my Hogwarts letter come?"

"Why yes, I do think it did," Grandfather Fawley chuckled. "Your books have all been grabbed, but your mother and father and I will be taking you and your brother to Diagon Alley tomorrow for a family day. Your mother wants to see Gilderoy Lockhart as well."

"We don't have to see him, do we?" Edmund asked worriedly, his enthusiasm about a day in Diagon Alley much dashed with the prospect of having to meet Lockhart.

"I think a trip to Fortescue's will be occurring at the same time," his grandfather winked at him.

* * *

The Fawley's hadn't taken a trip to Diagon Alley as a family in years. With Elodie Fawley on the Wizengamot, Ned working with Barty Crouch as his representative in the ICW, and Simon on the Irish Council and managing the Fawley Family affairs, life was simply too busy to carve out the time. On this rare exception, Edmund stood in the Hall of Promenade-On-Finn in casual trousers and a green sweater with a grey traveling cloak that was the latest style in Wizarding Britain. Sullivan entered shortly after him, giving him a weak grin as he fastened his cloak, which was a dark brown that matched his long hair.

The two brothers had come to an uneasy truce last night at the dinner table when Edmund had congratulated Sullivan on his Quidditch win, and the older brother had subsequently enveloped Edmund in a quick hug before sitting down at his place at the table. Madam Fawley had burst into tears at seeing this, and Sullivan later told Edmund that night that the absence of their sister had affected their mother quite harshly.

It was because of this, that Madam Fawley had demanded to her husband and father in law that they take the boys to Diagon Alley, although they both knew that Gilderoy Lockhart's book signing was also a contributing factor.

At this point, Ned and Simon Fawley had joined the boys in the Hall, wearing a black and beige traveling cloak respectively. Finally, when Madam Fawley walked in, they took the floo powder and once again, Edmund had to go first. "DIAGON ALLEY!"

He felt himself spinning through the floo to land rather unceremoniously in The Leaky Cauldron. Quick to get up to avoid the ridicule of the older witches and wizards dotted around the barroom, he quickly made his way over to the small courtyard between the bar and the entrance to Diagon Alley. The rest of his family soon joined him and after Madam Fawley tapped the appropriate bricks, the wondrous Diagon Alley came into view. Edmund and Sullivan raced to the nearby Quality Quidditch Supplies, where the latest Nimbus was being displayed. "It's beautiful," the older Fawley brother whispered, admiring the sleek glossy black handle with silver lettering itched onto the end. Edmund couldn't help but agree.

"Come on boys," Madam Fawley called them over. A small smile touching her lips as she saw her sons bonding over something once again.

As Madam Fawley went to Flourish and Blotts, Grandfather Fawley went off to Ollivander's to have a discussion with the old wandmaker, leaving Ned Fawley to lead the boys to Dervish and Banges, the Magical Department store that carried all sorts of equipment. Sullivan was quick to buy a practice quaffle and a new set of exploding snap while Edmund needed replacement Wizards' Chess pieces, the last of his having been annihilated at the end of the last school year by one Draco Malfoy.

After Dervish and Banges the three Fawley's headed to Gringotts to refill Edmund and Sullivan's allowance. Ned Fawley was quite liberal with his children's finances, but expected them to manage their funds accordingly, and had occasionally asked both Edmund and Sullivan to show him their bookkeeping. The idea was to train them to someday manage their own finances, a given with the amount of wealth the Fawley family had accrued over the years.

The Fawley account manager, a Goblin named Dubats, led them down to the shafts which proceeded to carry them deep down into the recesses of Gringotts Bank, where the vaults for the oldest families were located. At the Fawley Vault, Ned Fawley scooped up a sack of galleons and sickles and knuts under the watchful eye and quill of Dubat before handing it to Edmund. "Thirty galleons," he told his son sternly. "This is more then you've been given before. Use it well."

Edmund graciously pocketed the pouch in his traveling cloak as they walked a few meters to where Sullivan's Trust Vault was located. At the age of fifteen, Edmund and Sullivan's father had allowed Meredith to access her Trust Vault, and as Sullivan was now of the same age, he would get to access his vault for the first time. Each year, the vault was filled with a percentage of the Fawley earnings that amassed to quite an amount of money. It was a permanent source of income for all members of the family.

Sullivan gaped in awe as Dubat ran a finger over the door to the trust vault, and a mountain of galleons appeared. Edmund couldn't blame him. For Sullivan, who would one day take over all assets of the Fawley Family, experience in management and understanding money was a necessity. The Fawleys collected rent from a numerous number of holdings in India and Ireland, and the flow of that money into the banks had to be watched carefully.

Slowly, Sullivan produced a pouch which he began to fill with gold, once again under the watchful eye of Dubat, who carefully recorded everything.

When he was finished, his father clapped him on the back and led them back up the nauseating ride to the Bank's main floor, where Simon Fawley was waiting for them. "I believe I promised we'd go to Fortescue's," he chuckled.

Together they left the bank. As they were walking down the stairs, Edmund saw a group of older girls walking out of Witchers, the place where Merry got her perfumes and scents. He recognized them as Slytherin sixth years. One of the girls with pitch-black hair glanced up the steps of Gringotts briefly before catching view of him. He smiled slightly. "Dad," he called out to his father, who was heading down the steps in the other direction with his brother and grandfather. "A friend," he gestured to an approaching Gemma Farley.

"Edmund!" the older girl wrapped in a hug. "How's my favorite non-first year?"

"Hey, Gemma," he smiled. "Just visiting the bank."

Turning, he saw his brother, father, and grandfather a bit off waiting for him. Sullivan looked as if he had eaten something sour, while his grandfather gave a bemused smile. Ned Fawley, as usual, seemed to give off no emotion.

"How's your brother?" she asked him. The last time he had seen the Slytherin Prefect, the relationship with his brother had been entirely hostile.

"Not bad," he shrugged. "I think we are okay for now. My grandfather is taking us to Florean Fortescue's while mum is at Flourish and Blotts."

Gemma gave a low chuckle, blushing slightly. "Lockhart's book signing? Yeah, we are heading there too," she gestured towards the other Slytherin girls, who Edmund recognized as Sylvia, Gwendolyn, and Astrid.

"Uh not you too," Edmund moaned. "It's bad enough whoever is the new Defense Professor is a Lockhart fan but now all the girls are too."

"He's a hero," Gemma exclaimed. "Look at all he's done!"

"Plus," she continued, "He's more handsome then Potter. Although perhaps he's gotten cuter now that he's a year older." She gave him a pointed look. "You certainly have," she said as she turned around to rejoin her friends. "See you soon, Edmund."

Edmund was left on the steps of Gringotts, once again tongue-tied by the incredibly attractive older girl. "I'm much cuter then Potter," he muttered to himself with disdain before rejoining his family to get a much-needed ice-cream cone.


	14. Chapter 14

**A TALE OF RIVALS**

By Elk99

Chapter 14

* * *

"Arthur," Ned Fawley greeted the Weasley Patriarch much to Edmund's chagrin. They were standing outside King's Cross Station when they ran into the Weasley Family and Harry Potter. Of course, it was the Golden Boy who had caused Ned Fawley to stop with his two sons before crossing the barrier that led onto the Magical Platform where the Hogwarts Express awaited.

"Ned," the man held out his hand genially, which the Fawley father clasped briefly. "How are you?"

"Running late, unfortunately," Ned responded, eyeing his elder son with an annoyed look. "Some of us believe that there's no time like the morning of to pack for his OWL year at Hogwarts."

Sullivan had the sensibility to look abashed as his tardiness was called out. Ned was taking the boys to the station as Amelia Bones was not able to this year. Susan had come with Hannah Abbott and as a result, did not accompany them. He shifted uncomfortably as he remembered finally explaining to his family that he was no longer friends with the girl. It had been an awkward conversation, to say the least, sparked after his mother had idly commented that he had not gone to the Bones House during the summer. It wasn't even really an intentional end to their friendship. The two of them had just drifted ever since she and Wayne had come to Promenade-on-Finn.

"And is this your youngest," the voice of Arthur Weasley cut in, bringing Edmund back to the conversation at hand.

"Yes, this is my youngest, Edmund," Ned gave Edmund a look.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weasley," he shook Arthur Weasley's hand before turning to his wife. "And you as well, Mrs. Weasley." He exchanged a nod with Potter and Weasley. It wouldn't do to ignore his classmates, regardless of his personal opinions of them. Being respectful was important and directly representative of his family. Weasley, as typical just grimaced briefly, but Potter surprised him by returning his nod.

"And I see your youngest will be starting her first year this year," Edmund's father peered down at the youngest Weasley child, a little gripping her cart. "We shan't keep you any longer. The train will not be waiting."

"Quite right. Quite right," Arthur Weasley muttered a bit absently. "I will see you at work, Ned." With that, the rest of the Weasley's bid their goodbye as they began to run through the barrier in pairs. Finally, Potter and Ron Weasley made it through the barrier, although the strangest thing happened, which was that the pair appeared to encounter some resistance before the barrier opened up again after a spell from Ned Fawley. Sullivan and Edmund asked no questions, knowing that they needed to get on the train in a hurry and quickly loaded their trunks onto the express before giving their father a quick hug goodbye.

"Listen," Sullivan muttered before heading off. "I'm going to find some of the team," referring of course to the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Much to his joy, Sullivan Fawley had been chosen as the Quidditch Captain for Hufflepuff this year by Professor Sprout. While he hadn't bragged about it, to his credit, it was evident that he took the position seriously, and had spent a good deal of time watching Quidditch matches all summer.

"Alright, I was going to find Daphne and Tracey anyways," Edmund said, shifting his bag to the other shoulder.

"I'll see you around, Ed."

"See you, Sully."

Edmund stared after his brother's retreating form, pondering the rocky up-and-down relationship they had had since his sorting. He was glad that now, a year later things were looking up again. Sullivan may not yet accept his House, but he definitely accepted that his brother wasn't in Hufflepuff. Sighing, he made his way to the back of the train where Edmund knew a lot of Slytherins liked to claim cabins.

Daphne, Tracy, Blaise, and Helen were in one of the Cabins at the very back of the train. After greeting his friends, Edmund sat down next to Daphne and listened as Blaise continued to regale them with stories about his summer in Italy, where his grandfather owned a villa outside of Florence. The dark-skinned Slytherin had gotten much chattier since the prior year, Edmund thought to himself, remembering the quiet boy who would barely talk unless directly spoken to by his friends.

A lot had changed over the summer. Tracy's family's world voyage had been a great experience, and she had started practicing Hindi after falling in love with New Delhi. Blaise had, of course, grown more confident in himself over his stay in Italy, Helen and Daphne both had begun learning Latin, a language Edmund had learned at an early age and were eager to talk with him about the various declensions they were currently attempting to figure out. He imagined that he had changed a great deal too, but it was not perhaps so obvious to him. He didn't deny he had experienced a lot this summer. His occlumency had progressed at a rapid pace, shocking even his grandfather, who was now expending effort to penetrate his defenses.

He had made new friends and strengthened his friendships with his friends in Slytherin. He had hung out with Adrian and Theo, and Daphne multiple times over the summer, as well as his trip to America with Neville, and seeing Benjamin and Sakiko in Japan. His many interactions had definitely made him more open of a person as well, he knew.

An hour into the journey, the door to their compartment opened, admitting Adrian Pucey and Theo Nott. "Allo, all," the Third Year greeted the occupants of the carriage before settling on Edmund. "How are you, Edmund?'

"Very well, Adrian," Edmund responded. "Yourself?"

"Not bad. Theo and I have some information that we wanted to bring to your attention," he gestured to his friend, who until this point, had stayed behind him.

"In private," the heir to the House of Nott added.

Edmund exchanged a lazy look at Daphne, a clear indication that he would be telling them everything later before he got up to follow the two Third Years into the corridor.

"Yes," he asked them with a raised eyebrow once Adrian had shut the door to his compartment closed.

"Malfoy is making a power play," Adrian began without preamble. "And you are the only one that can counter him with little impunity."

"How? I'm only a second-year."

"So is Draco," Theo countered quickly.

"You are both purebloods who are older than I am," Edmund reasoned.

"Theo's father is aligned too closely with Mr. Malfoy for him to be of any help," Adrian explained. "And I don't want to challenge Malfoy for rights to the House myself. I don't care enough about it, I just don't want him with influence."

Edmund's doubt must have shown on his face because Adrian elaborated further.

"Look, Mr. Malfoy has bought the entire Quidditch Team Nimbus 2001s. The only reason I know is because Theo overheard Flint telling Higgs he is off the team. Malfoy has bought his way to the seeker position and frankly, fancy broom or not, Draco isn't good enough to go up against Diggory, Potter, or Chang."

"So you want to keep Malfoy off the team," Edmund reasoned.

"Exactly, but it's a dual opportunity," Theo cut in again. "Your family has much more wealth then the Malfoys, and you could show your dominance over Draco in the House, and get him off the team if you put your mind to it."

Edmund was stunned at the older boy, a staunch Slytherin Quidditch Team fanatic. "You want me to get my grandfather to purchase brooms for the other three teams?"

"Ah he really is a Slytherin," Nott snarked, rolling his eyes to Adrian.

"Are you a Slytherin?" Edmund asked the Nott heir incredulously. "You want to give away a sizeable advantage given to the team?"

"The advantage is short term," Adrian cut in. "Draco simply is not good enough, and Potter will still beat him on his own Nimbus. Broom isn't everything. Chang is the only good player Ravenclaw has, and we are on par with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor without broom advantage. Potter is a great seeker and your brother is a great Keeper, but our Chasers are better and with you on the team, our beaters are as good as the Weasleys."

"Flint won't hold tryouts for beater with Bole off his suspension."

"He will if he loses the advantage he expects to have."

"So essentially, you want the Fawley family to finance 21 Nimbus 2001s so that Draco stays off the team, and I get on it?"

Adrian and Theo's grins were enough of an answer and Edmund groaned. "This requires finesse. I need to bring someone else in on this."

"Who?" Adrian asked.

"Sullivan," Edmund pondered. "And someone else."

"This can't be traced back to me," Nott told him.

"Fine," Edmund said shortly. "But if I do this, this… power play, it will be subtle. I'm going to need your support afterward."

"That's a deal breaker," he added, seeing Theo's uncertainty.

After a moment of silence, Adrian and Theo seemed to make up their mind. "Deal."

"Excellent," Edmund's grin spread across his face at the prospect of once again getting the better of Draco Malfoy. "Please tell my friends I will rejoin them shortly."

With that, he turned around, leaving the two older boys outside his compartment.

"He has the potential to be incredibly dangerous," Theodore Nott muttered to his best mate.

"He already is," Adrian smiled. "I think we have sided with the right person."

* * *

Only a few minutes after his conversation with the older Slytherins, Edmund found himself in an empty compartment with his brother, who he had taken away from his friends with an urgent look, and Neville Longbottom.

"What is this about, Ed?" the older Fawley asked, clearly annoyed, compared to Neville's confusion.

"I have come across some information," Edmund said. "Information pertinent to your Quidditch Career, to Neville's convenience, and to my social standing within my House."

His eyes narrowed, Sullivan's first reaction was to leave. He didn't like this side of his brother, the Slytherin ladder climbing attitude, but his interest in Quidditch eventually won him over. "Spill," he said.

So, Edmund relayed to them the information passed on by Adrian Pucey, leaving the older boy's name out of the conversation. He watched as Sullivan's eyes grew wide at what this would mean for their Quidditch chances against Slytherin, and towards the end, Neville realized what an emboldened Draco Malfoy meant for him.

"How do we stop this?" Neville asked, his face pale at the thought of what Malfoy had done to him in the halls throughout first year.

"And why do you want to stop it?" Sullivan asked suspiciously. "This is your House we are talking about."

"Because if I make the team while Draco doesn't, that is something people will recognize," Edmund shrugged. "Sure, it's a short-term disadvantage for us, but a long-term advantage for me _off_ the Quidditch Pitch."

Sullivan spent a good while weighing the advantages and disadvantages of the entire situation. His brother being on the team and Draco Malfoy being off the team, if the blonde ponce was as bad a player as he heard, was to his direct disadvantage, but on the other hand, the broom disadvantage would be huge enough to not only offset that but turn the balance in Slytherin's favor.

"What do you need us to do?" he asked, resigned to his brother's scheming.

Edmund smiled. "So here is what we need to do…"

* * *

That night during the sorting saw Draco Malfoy sporting such a pompous smirk and sitting next to Marcus Flint. Edmund merely smiled to himself, knowing that Malfoy's satisfaction would be short-lived. He watched the entrance of the first-years with interest, having never seen it from this perspective before. He quickly spotted a girl with flaming red hair that was the youngest Weasley girl. Towards the back was a small brunette, Astoria Greengrass who waved at Daphne, seemingly without a care in the world.

"There are so many relatives that are being sorted this year," Daphne whispered. "Millicent's brother, Maurice, Helen's cousin Ryan, and Astoria."

"It should definitely be interesting," Edmund whispered back, more focused on examining the nervous-looking students. It was always good to evaluate them before he had any interactions. It was a game he played, a test of his own perceptions. Some of these students would be sorted into Slytherin and he could use allies, especially considering what he was asking his Grandfather to do.

The hat began singing. It was a different song than last year, but he listened to every word. It spoke not only of what made each house different but the importance of unity among the houses. _Not that many people will be able to comprehend that._

He watched as Owen Abrahams walked up to sit on the stool where Professor McGonagall would place the ancient hat on his head.

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Boore, George."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Bulstrode, Maurice."

"SLYTHERIN!"

Edmund clapped with all the others as Millicent Bulstrode's brother joined the House of Serpents and sat next to George Boore who had ended up seated on Edmund's left. Soon after two sisters, twins, Flora and Hestia Carrow joined them before Astoria was called up. Edmund felt Daphne tense next to him.

Sure enough, Astoria sat under the hat for five painstaking minutes as the Hat seemed to deliberate. The entire hall was silent. Edmund had never seen a true hatstall before. His mother had been one, but they were incredibly rare. Finally, just before it looked like the younger Greengrass would bolt off the stool out of embarrassment, a decision was reached. "SLYTHERIN!"

Daphne visibly relaxed as Astoria bolted from the dais to join her fellow Slytherin first-years. Both Edmund and Daphne gave her a thumbs up before returning to watch Malcolm Heath, and Terrence Higgs' brother Gavin be sorted into their House as well.

"We have a lot of people on the beginning of the Alphabet," Daphne noted bemusedly to Edmund.

A red-haired girl, not as red as the Weasley hair, but noticeable nonetheless, named Lane McRory was also sorted into Slytherin, followed by Ryan Runcorn, who joined the Slytherin table to the groans of disappointment from his siblings and cousins in Ravenclaw.

"Thank Merlin," Helen sighed as her cousin joined her at the table. "I thought we'd lose you to those Eagles."

The last Slytherin to be sorted was Destiny Travers who joined the first years with little ado. Finally, the sorting was over after Ginny Weasley was unsurprisingly sorted into Gryffindor. Dumbledore made a few announcements, warning students off from the Forbidden Forest and introducing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, which somehow even caused the normally reserved Slytherin ladies to swoon in their seats. After singing the School Song, Dumbledore dismissed them, and Edmund, Daphne, Tracey, Blaise, and Helen made their way down to the dungeons, going through every short-cut imaginable to make sure they beat the first years and the fifth-year prefects by a large margin.

* * *

The first few weeks of classes went by easily and with little fanfare. Friendships and enemies had largely been cemented the year before, although this year they had a twist with some classes being with different houses. The second years still had Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws and much to Professor McGonagall's chagrin, the combative rivalry between Edmund and Terry Boot persisted. Charms continued to be with Hufflepuff, which he continued to outclass his classmates in, and Potions was with the Gryffindors.

Lockhart's class was utterly rubbish. After an apparently disastrous class with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, where a cage of Cornish Pixies was unleashed and caused havoc, the new Professor gave them a ridiculous quiz on his books and then proceeded to regale them with tales of his exploits. The girls in the class seemed to be head over heels with the new Professor, while Edmund and Blaise found themselves wishing for Professor Quirrell.

History of Magic continued to be boring, with Edmund using the time to read the assigned readings rather than the boring monologue of his Ghost Professor, Cuthbert Binns. Sitting next to Tracey, the two would alternate between reading ahead in Bagshot's _A History of Magic_ and playing hangman, which Edmund tended to win.

The big news was Neville Longbottom's new proficiency in class. No longer was the chubby Gryffindor considered a near squib, especially by Malfoy who had learned the extent of Neville's new confidence, the hard way. The blonde ponce had decided to cast a tripping jinx at the Gryffindor as he entered the potions lab one morning. Seeing the attack coming, Neville had jumped before hitting Malfoy with a leg-locker and a flipendo in rapid succession, the latter causing his attacker to fall into a row of cauldrons left over by the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Fourth Years.

Edmund had to admit that Malfoy's shrieks sounded painful as the thick green liquid burned him, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel much sympathy. The other boy had it coming for a long time, and being taken down by Neville was another nail in the coffin holding Malfoy's ambitions to take control of Slytherin. Sure, the Gryffindor was given detention for a month with Mr. Filch, but even Snape couldn't expel him since Draco had started the fight. It had endeared Neville to his own housemates, boosting his popularity, while Malfoy was knocked down slightly. People would be talking about how the Gryffindor Squib took him down for the next few weeks.

Yet despite this, Malfoy still had a card up his sleeve. Fortunately, Edmund knew about the brooms from his intelligence from Adrian and Theo. He only hoped that his Grandfather would act swiftly. Until then, he allowed himself to enjoy his time with Daphne, Blaise, Tracy, and Helen. The friends did well in their classes and were enjoying a period of relaxation near one of the willow trees alongside the lake. Edmund was reading a letter from his sister that had arrived at Breakfast, telling him all about her time in Berlin with Ruger Vitoff.

 _My dearest Edmund,_

 _Berlin is a beautiful city. I know you have been before but rest assured that there is much it has to offer, even in the muggle side, that one could not experience without an extended stay in the city. I have had the privilege of watching The Berlin Academy of Magic upper-level potion classes and have been able to lend some of my limited expertise to those seeking British NEWT level results. This is the last year the school will exist, as it simply does not have the size and cannot compete with the more established schools such as Hogwarts, or the main one in this region, Durmstrang._

 _With luck, I will have the opportunity to visit the Durmstrang Institute with Master Vitoff as he lectures on the capabilities of Amortentia in combat. Amortentia, in case you were not aware, is a very strong and very profound love potion. Master Vitoff has just published a book on the effects of Amortentia on combat, citing proper usage as a way to increase dueling proficiency through increased adrenaline and zeal._

 _It is a fascinating subject and I have even been able to help in brewing some of the potions that he sells to British vendors. He is an interesting man. I think you would like him. He reminds me of Professor Kettleburn._

 _I have not yet told father or mother, but I wanted to inform you before you saw the articles in TeenWitch – I know of the subscription Gemma Farley gave you last Christmas. I have met someone in Berlin. An American named Howard Graves. He graduated from Ilvermorny two years ago and is a businessman whose company buys potions from Master Vitoff. We have been on a few dates and I have allowed him to continue to write to me while he travels. I have no doubt that members of the international tabloids have caught wind of this, regardless of our discretion, and wanted you to hear it from me and nothing else._

 _How are things with you at Hogwarts? I hope you are treating your friends well. Please give Daphne and Tracey my regards. I am looking forward to joining you for Christmas at St. Midabaria this year, but until then, will await your owl._

 _Yours,_

 _Meredith_

"Well it looks like Merry will be in the next Issue of TeenWitch," Edmund sighed as he folded the letter from his sister and put it in the folds of his school robes.

As expected, Daphne, Tracey, and Helen perked up. "What did she do?" Tracy asked excitedly.

"She is seeing someone," Edmund replied leisurely. "And it sounds serious."

"Who?" Helen pressed.

Edmund merely shook his head. "Not saying anything else," he resolved. "You'll most likely find out tomorrow."

"If you don't tell us, I'll end a leak to TeenWitch that you are in a relationship with Gemma Farley," Daphne threatened seriously.

"Nah, people wouldn't be surprised by that," Tracy interjected much to Edmund's chagrin. "Edmund has a crush on her anyway."

"Maybe we could ask Gemma to find out," Helen teased, while Blaise just laughed at Edmund's blush.

"Okay so if I tell you can we never discuss this again?" Edmund asked.

Upon the girls acquiesce, he told them about Howard Graves as detailed in Meredith's letter.

While the girls looked confused, Blaise looked impressed. "The Graves family is a big name," he whistled. "Old American family that has a lot of Business interests in Africa and the Mediterranean. Big donors to the current president of MACUSA."

"I'm sure my father will approve then," Edmund said, impressed by his sister's choice. He knew that the Graves family was a big name from his friendship with Martin Maylock, who had mentioned a few of that family currently attending Ilvermorny. He had no idea however that they were in International Business. His father would surely approve of that pairing, especially considering the wealth the Graves would have that came from the international market.

"What does she say about her training with Ruger Vitoff?" Daphne asked.

"It's like how you treat Lockhart," he snarked, except Vitoff probably deserves such praise."

Blaise snickered while the girls looked affronted. "It's true," he said. "Vitoff is an accomplished potion maker while our Defense Teacher is a total floozy."

"But look at all he's done," Tracy seemed to swoon.

Edmund and Blaise shared a look. "I'm with Zabini on this," Edmund said. "I simply can't believe he has the capabilities to do much of the stuff he says."

As the girls continued to defend their "Handsome Hero," Edmund and Blaise continued to tease them as they packed up and began heading back to the Castle. It was filled with other students milling about, classes being over with only a small bit of time to relax in the dormitories before dinner. The group of friends followed the Slytherin and Hufflepuffs into the recesses of the school before branching away from the Badgers in order to get to the dungeons.

"Can you imagine having to go _up_ ," Blaise moaned under his breath to Edmund, referring to a class of Gryffindors who were leaving the potion's classroom.

"It's probably a good thing they keep us on opposite ends of the school," Edmund chuckled in reply.

Soon enough, they reached the blank wall, where Helen recited the password (Dreadnaught) and filed into the Slytherin Common room, where they were met by a crowd encircling an angry Marcus Flint and a cowering Draco Malfoy.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE OTHER HOUSE TEAMS HAVE NEW BROOMS AS WELL?" Flint was shouting.

"Oh, my," Edmund chuckled under his breath, as he caught the winks of Adrian Pucey and Theodore Nott. "The fun starts now."

* * *

 **A/N** : Please read and review! I have really enjoyed the comments I have gotten on this, public and private. Yes, yes, I did not do the train situation, but rest assured there is a reason for that. Next chapter ought to be a bit more exciting with the broom situation coming to a head, and also will take us through the Halloween Feast!


	15. Chapter 15

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **Chapter 15**

 **By Elk99**

 **A/N:** For how long I have made some of you wait for my updates, I wanted to get this next Chapter out quickly. This one is a bit heavier on the details but I didn't want to rush it as I figured we were approaching some real pivotal scenes not just in the book but in the HP series as a whole. I have forgotten to do this lately so in case you have forgotten, I don't own Harry Potter or the world Madam Rowling has created.

* * *

"What is the meaning of this," Flint looked like he was going to explode as he clenched a scroll, brandishing it all around.

To his credit, Malfoy seemed to find his wits after cowering in front of Flint, perhaps bolstered by the sight of more of his year-mates. "This just means it's a good thing I acted when I did," he began, before his newfound confidence vanished as it did nothing to appease the burly Quidditch Captain.

"You IDIOT," Edmund was almost positive he saw spittle flying out of Flint's mouth. "We've lost our advantage and its because YOU couldn't keep your mouth shut!"

"What is going on?" Heads turned as Slytherin's Seventh Year prefect, Yaxley, entered the room from the hallway which led into the dormitory.

Flint pointed accusingly at Draco. "Someone spilled the beans that Draco's father purchased new brooms for the team. As a result, the Board of Governors bought 21 Nimbus 2001s for Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. He is the only one with an ego big enough to brag about it up and down the corridors. Now we've lost our advantage."

"I did no such thing," Draco retorted.

Flint was not the only one who scoffed at that. The ego of Lucius Malfoy's son was well-known throughout all of Hogwarts, especially in the dungeons. Typically, the Slytherins indulged him, knowing his father could get them jobs after Hogwarts, but this time it seemed as if circumstances had crossed a line. Quidditch was a serious matter, especially to Slytherin. Used to being ostracized by the other three houses, Quidditch, was a way they were able to come together as a House and stick it to the other Houses.

Yaxley stared impassively between the two. After what seemed like forever, the seventh-year prefect broke the silence. "Don't hurt him, Flint… physically."

Flint broke out into a feral grin as Yaxley exited the Common Room. "You're off the team," he snarled at Draco before turning to Higgs. "You have a new Nimbus, Higgs."

Edmund could see Malfoy preparing to retort, before thinking better of it. He couldn't make any demands or threats without becoming a pariah. If he told Flint that Higgs couldn't have the broom, he would look like he was sabotaging his own House team out of selfishness. His face beet red, he stormed to the dormitory, where Edmund suspected a few well-placed kicks would be coming to Malfoy's trunk.

Flint then turned to Edmund. "Fawley, I want you to try out against Bole this Saturday," before turning away, leaving a glaring Bole staring after him. Immediately, Adrian and Theo rushed over, joining Edmund and his friends.

"Well done, Fawley," Theo said appreciatively.

"It was a masterstroke," Adrian agreed.

Edmund merely smiled. Let's take a look at that scroll," he pointed to the roll of parchment Flint had left on one of the study tables. The broken seal of the Hogwarts Board of Governors was apparent on the outside.

 ** _From The Board of Governors_**

 ** _Gideon Brocklehurst, Chief Governor Order of Merlin 3rd Class_**

 ** _To, Hogwarts Faculty_**

 ** _Regarding, The 1992-1993 Quidditch Season_**

 _In a unanimous vote, the Board of Governors for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has decided to grant 21 Nimbus 2001 Racing Brooms to the Hogwarts. These brooms are the property of the School and will be under the care and supervision of the School's Flying Instructor. With the generous donation from Governor Lucius Malfoy to Slytherin House, it is the unanimous recommendation of the Board that these brooms be specifically allocated to the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw House teams for the 1992-1993 season._

 _Quidditch is a game, but it is a game that fosters loyalty while utilizing teamwork, wit, courage, and cunning. It is important that all teams have an even playing ground so that these values can be utilized to the maximum. Personal wealth has no place in school games, particularly considering many of our aspiring Quidditch Stars will be found right here at Hogwarts, on the pitch. As such, the finest brooms must be afforded._

The letter went on with more jargon, but the gist was apparent in those two paragraphs. The Board of Governors would not tolerate blatant powerplays by donors from any of the four houses. The last paragraph even had a short condemnation of the actions taken by Lucius Malfoy. There was nothing in here about Simon Fawley, which was good as it protected Edmund from suspicion from the Slytherins.

The plan had been simple. Neville had written a letter to his Grandmother who had returned to the Board after a decade-long absence. Augusta Longbottom, outraged at the donation, motioned the board to allocate funds for the brooms. The capital improvements fund was empty, that is until Simon Fawley had made a donation to the fund, which was anonymous, with just enough money to purchase the brooms. Edmund and Sullivan had written to him and their father about it and both Ned and Simon Fawley had agreed with surprisingly little reluctance.

At the board meeting, Simon Fawley as Secretary for the Board had added it to the agenda at the very last minute, catching Lucius Malfoy unawares until the meeting had started. Working in conjunction, Neville's grandmother and Edmund's grandfather had whipped up the votes ahead of time and had ensured that there was no room to object to the measure. It was, as Adrian had said, a masterstroke.

"Well we better practice our butt off to prove we can still win," Edmund told them. Hufflepuff is going to dominate this year."

"We beat them last year we can beat them this year," Adrian dismissed. "And maybe with you as beater in lieu of Bole… we could have a shot against Gryffindor as well."

"We will see," Edmund sighed. "I'm going to drop my things off and then I'll meet you guys at dinner," he said to his friends before departing down towards the boy's dormitory. Before he got there, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Why do I have a feeling that you had something to do with this, Edmund?" the sweet voice of Gemma Farley whispered into his ear.

Without turning around, he answered her levelly. "I know nothing about any of that."

"Don't be silly," she whispered back. "You are still very much a second year, Edmund Fawley. You can't hide your tracks from me. I know about your friendship with Longbottom."

"What is it to you?" he asked her, hiding his discomfort at how much the older girl knew.

"Nothing," she said. "Just wanted you to know… that I know..."

The hand on his shoulder lifted and as he turned around, the older prefect was gone. _Weird._

* * *

The following morning was the Saturday of Quidditch tryouts. Slytherin had booked the pitch after Gryffindor which put Flint in a bad mood but resulted in a very happy and well rested Edmund, who stood in the Slytherin changing room with Adrian, while Flint and Gryffindor's Captain Oliver Wood had a shouting match over Gryffindor trying to take extra time on the pitch.

For the sake of tryouts, all team members had to use the old school brooms for fairness, as they would not receive the Nimbus until they had made the team. Edmund was clutching his own broom, an American model called Sunsweep which was a top-notch broomstick, although h nothing compared to the British Nimbus 2001. There were nine chasers trying out, although Adrian had told Edmund he doubted the lineup would change from Flint, Cassius Warrington and himself. Derrick, Bole, Edmund, and a third year, Harlan Mathews were trying out for Beater. Robert Boser, a sixth year who had lost the Keeper position last year to Marcus Bletchley was trying out against his successor for the position back, and Draco Malfoy had come out to try against a very happy Terrence Higgs. The practice had started out with the Seekers. Flint pulled out the Nimbus 2001 and released the snitch, before handing the Broom to Higgs. The Older Slytherin set off slowly at first, adjusting to the broom and getting the feel of its maneuverability before racing off to search for the snitch.

In the meantime, Flint had everyone except Malfoy doing drills on the pitch. Together, they did suicide drills on the grassy pitch for twenty minutes without stopping until Flint blew his whistle. Higgs had caught the snitch. They were afforded a short break as Flint released the snitch and gave the broom to Malfoy before briefly going over his notes. Finally, at his command, Malfoy took off and the suicide drills continued. Unlike Higgs, Malfoy had started off at a rapid pace, and as a result, not working out the kinks of the much faster broom. With less control, the blonde second-year was suffering up in the air.

The remainder of the people trying out had it much worse. Twenty minutes of the running drill had been bad enough, but Flint made them continue. Unintentionally or intentionally, he is fostering resentment at Malfoy, Edmund thought to himself. Malfoy caught the snitch after a half hour, what felt like three hours to those doing drills. Flint called a stop and spoke to Higgs and Malfoy. After a few moments, Malfoy stormed away, red-faced, while Flint clasped Higgs hand briefly before handing him the Nimbus 2001. Malfoy's ploy had failed.

The next part came the Chaser Tryouts. The Chaser hopefuls were paired into twos, with Adrian and Warrington paired together and the odd man out, Winters, paired with Warrington in the second round. Each pair flew with Flint, did drills in the air and eventually had a contest of trying to score against Bletchley. Both Adrian and Warrington were clearly the best and Flint announced that the Chaser lineup would stay the same, with last year's reserve, Quentin Sotheby, remaining as such.

Next came the Keeper tryouts. Bletchley manned the goalposts first, and the three Chasers each took six shots at him in seemingly random order. The Slytherin keeper finished in a sweat, having let eight goals in, four of them from Adrian. It was a good number of goals and Bletchley probably had a right to be worried, Edmund reasoned, but at the same time, the Slytherin Chasers were considered the best at Hogwarts.

As it turned out, the worry was for nothing. Boser let the first five shots, all from Warrington go through. Edmund knew that Flint would take this incredibly poorly even if no other shots went through, as the older Slytherin should have recognized Warrington's pattern much earlier on. Adrian and Flint both got in two more shots apiece and on the ninth shot, made by Flint, Boser walked off the pitch. It's a wonder Slytherin had one at all before last year, Edmund marveled privately, knowing that the House was on a big winning streak of the Quidditch Cup.

At last the Beaters. Flint paired Edmund up with Harlan Mathews, as Bole paired with Derrick. Flint was, objectively the best Chaser and paired with Sotheby while Adrian paired with Warrington. Higgs was made the Keeper for Flint and Sotheby's team while Adrian and Warrington and Bletchley made up the other team. Edmund and Harlan were put on the team with Higgs, Flint, and Sotheby while Derrick and Bole were with the rest of the established team. This tryout would be difficult as the four chasers and two beaters were all currently using the team brooms.

As the impromptu match started and flint released the bludgers, Adrian took possession of the quaffle and went careening towards Higgs, while Warrington seemed to fly upwards. Bole and Derrick started flying towards the bludgers, getting ready to send them towards Higgs. Edmund quickly realized the strategy and shouted over the wind to Mathews. "They're attempting a Raki Feint!" he shouted before aiming his Sunsweep towards Higgs, hoping to beat not only the Chasers, but the bludgers. As he reached the goalpost, he was glad to see Harlan had understood and had rushed to intercept Derrick.

Bole hit the bludger first, a bit too soon, Edmund had noted to his delight. Defending Higgs, he knocked the bludger towards Warrington only a few seconds after Adrian had released it up to him. Warrington missed the quaffle to avoid the bludger and instead of being saved by Adrian, it was picked up by Sotheby who made a long pass to Flint, who caught it and with the help of another well-aimed bludger by Edmund, who had taken off to center pitch almost immediately after hitting his first shot.

The game continued in much the same fashion. It couldn't be denied that Adrian and Warrington worked better together then Flint and Sotheby, having a year's worth of comradery, but it quickly became clear that Edmund and Harlan were much better beaters then Derrick and Bole. After forty-five minutes of play, Flint called a stop to the match, and all the players made their way down to the grass. Adrian half-heartedly glared at Edmund, nursing his left arm after Edmund had sent a particularly vicious shot to him right before he could score.

"Well," Flint began. "Derrick, Bole, you are off the team, but Derrick we'd use you in reserves. Fawley and Mathews, welcome to the team." The others clapped briefly as Derrick and Bole walked off the pitch, and Sotheby was thanked and dismissed by Flint. The burly Captain handed the two sleek black brooms to the new beaters. "Right, so the roster is Flint, Warrington, Pucey, Fawley, Mathews, Bletchley, and Higgs. Our first match is against Gryffindor and we need to talk strategy. Mathews, you work surprisingly well with Fawley, but while you pack more power he is more accurate. Fawley, I want you to tail Potter during the match. Mathews will run interference from the Weasley twins, and send any bludgers your way for you to redirect towards Potter."

"You want me to tail the Seeker?" Edmund asked incredulously. As far as he was aware, beaters had never focused on specific targets like that before.

"Was I not clear?" Flint asked with a menacing glint in his eye.

"No, you were, Captain," Edmund corrected hastily. "Understood."

"Good." Flint turned to Mathews. 'You pack a big punch, you can be more effective down with us then Fawley. For Gryffindor, I want you to keep the bludgers away, but specifically directed at the Weasleys. The goal is to keep Potter away from the snitch, and to limit the Weasleys' effect on us."

As Mathews nodded to affirm his understanding. The captain turned to the Chasers and Keeper. "We can take care of things on our end without bludgers, I reckon," he gave a feral smile. "Bletchley, I want you to join Higgs in agility and speed drills. Bell, Spinnet, and Johnson are fast. Faster then Warrington and I, maybe not Pucey but still. And Higgs, just catch the damn snitch, but leave the tailing to Fawley.

"I'll have a clear strategy worked out on Thursday which will be our first practice. The match is mid-November so we have a lot of work to do. After Halloween, we will start morning practices."

The groans of the team did little to change Flint's mind, and he sent them off, first directing Edmund to accompany Adrian to the Hospital Wing to get a salve for his arm.

"Sorry about that," Edmund apologized to Adrian with a grimace as they walked in the direction of the Castle. "It looked like it hurt."

"Oh, it did, and it still does," Adrian assured him. "But it was worth it seeing Bole and Derrick kicked off the team. Congratulations by the way."

"Thanks," Edmund chuckled. "Harlan was a surprise."

Adrian was silent for a moment. "He definitely came out of the woodwork," he agreed. "But if he had any competency, and he obviously thought he did, and he does, Flint made the right choice in pairing you and him. Say what you will about our esteemed Captain, but he is a strategist and a damn good one. He knew if Mathews was good that the two of you would dominate."

"I got the assumption he only wanted Bole off the team."

"Probably. But as you said, Mathews was a surprise, and you will work better with him with enough practice."

"He's in your year, isn't he?" Edmund asked.

"He is," Flint affirmed. "I like him. He reminds me a bit of you actually. He's quiet, but when you engage him in a conversation it is always interesting."

"I'll have to speak with him," Edmund mused.

"Looking to get more allies, Fawley?" Adrian asked, amusement showing on his face.

"I still don't get why you are convinced I'll get older students to follow me as a second-year," Edmund muttered, also avoiding the insinuation.

"Don't be silly, Edmund," Adrian laughed. "Do you know nothing about our House yet?"

Edmund honestly hadn't the foggiest idea of what his friend was talking about, and his confusion must have shown, for Adrian continued. "Yes, we value ambition in Slytherin, but we also recognize that we can gain more behind the scenes. We know not all of us are cut out for leadership and most of us don't try to and would rather rally behind someone who we can help, but more importantly, can help us. You come from a distinguished line of Purebloods, but you aren't so bigoted to alienate the half-bloods – like Mathews, I might add – but you are a clear and strong supporter of Wizarding ideals. You and Malfoy are both from wealthy families, but while he squanders his wealth and opportunity, you cultivate it."

Edmund listened to Adrian's analysis silently, mulling it over. He had never considered himself a leader. Meredith and Sullivan, they had always been leaders. He had never shared those qualities. Then again, he thought, he had other traits, and people seemed to attract to him. He had quickly made friends with Daphne, and by extension, Tracey. Helen had followed after, finding him a more attractive option then Malfoy's cronies, and at some point, Blaise, who had been wary of him initially, had joined their grouping. He had made friends with a few older years like Adrian and Theo and Gemma and he knew that he was respected in his house as one of their top points winners in classes, last year only being rivaled by Cain Wesley and a few others.

"I'll keep it in mind," he said finally.

"Do that," Adrian grinned. "Just remember that the longer you shirk from this, the more opportunity Draco has to influence the new first years."

It was at that point that something within Edmund changed, and he abruptly stopped mid-stride, the Hospital Wing just around the corridor. He remembered his first night at Hogwarts, a time he was told would be filled with excitement and making new friends and marveling at the magic of the castle for the very first time. He remembered clearly that instead of that, he had been punched in the face by Draco, held back by Crabbe, an attempt to beat him down into submission. He had told no one of that, except Gemma of course, and had internalized it, kept it compartmentalized with the assistance of his occlumency lessons with Professor Kettleburn. But the thought of Malfoy with authority, with influence, made his blood boil. He remembered how he treated Neville Longbottom, a pureblood, embarrassing him in front of people of lower stature. Malfoy had no respect for the traditions of Wizardkind, those that had been laid out by their forefathers. He used the old ways as a means to bully and obtain power for himself and nothing more. At that point, Edmund knew his decision had been made.

"Alright," he said finally. "But we need to go further."

"What?" Adrian asked.

"Pacts," Edmund answered succinctly. "By the end of this year, we will have not just a group of allies, but an organization. One that can influence the world."

Adrian Pucey shivered slightly, and would later go on to tell his children that it was this moment, where he committed to aligning himself with Edmund Fawley. Adrian came from a line of Welsh Purebloods. They were not wealthy and were not in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but they respected the traditions, and they recognized the problems in the Wizengamot. At that point, Adrian Pucey also made a decision.

With a solemn look, he extended his arm to Edmund. "I'm with you."

Edmund clasped it and the two boys locked eyes. A promise was made between them at that point, and a bond of friendship was formed. A pact, made with intent, with the sheer power of their will, solidified deep inside of them. Without another word, Adrian spun around and walked into the Hospital Wing, leaving Edmund with his thoughts in the deserted corridor.

* * *

The following weeks passed by quickly, filled with classes, Quidditch, Occlumency lessons, and spending time with his friends. Classes continued to be a breeze with the exception of Herbology, especially as they continued to work with mandrakes, which in Edmund's opinion was a horrible punishment sent down by God. He had begun spending some time with the first years, lending them his notes once in a while to help on their essays. He had grown particularly close to George Boore and Malcolm Heath. George struggled in Charms, Edmund's forte, and had gradually improved with his explanation of the theory. Malcolm, on the other hand, had horrible penmanship and had been docked points by both Professor McGonagall and Professor Sinistra. Sotheby, who was the fifth year prefect and thus responsible for the first years had asked Edmund to work with him on it, and so Edmund devoted fifteen minutes every night to sitting with Malcolm, and another fifteen minutes checking over George's scrolls and notes.

Flint continued to work the Quidditch team every other evening, with long practices that always left the team too tired to do anything but lounge in the Common Room. Edmund quickly adjusted to the new Nimbus and had started practicing firing off bludgers at Higgs, no small thing as the new brooms made especially the seeker incredibly fast and agile.

Occlumency lessons with Professor Kettleburn were held on Sunday evenings before dinner, but they had gotten consistently better, much to the grizzled Professor's surprise, as Edmund had quickly evolved into what he told him was levels of a prodigy. The lessons now were a mere formality and the Care of Magical Creatures Professor told him that they might consider making their lessons monthly instead of weekly, much to Edmund's relief, as the lessons were cutting into his time to do other things.

With what little time he had left, Edmund spent with his friends. Adrian had joined his group and with a bit of urging, so had Harlan Mathews. Edmund had talked to his new teammate the day after the tryouts and the older boy proved to be a wealth of knowledge about the gossip mill at Hogwarts. Theo Nott also joined them, but more out of loyalty to Adrian then anything else. His other friends had welcomed the new additions with little fanfare, although Daphne had mentioned it to Edmund briefly on Halloween while the two were taking a walk through the castle during a break between History of Magic and Charms, their friends still finishing up an essay for Professor Flitwick on the Skurge Scouring Charm.

"So, I noticed Adrian and Harlan have fit into our social circle quite well," his best friend commented to him.

Edmund smiled softly. They were on the lower ramparts near the front of the castle, near a shortcut to the second-floor Charms Classroom. Professor Flitwick had a free period right before class so Daphne and Edmund had taken to dropping their bags off in the classroom and heading to the ramparts. He quite enjoyed the break. He liked his friends, but there was a thoughtfulness about Daphne that he enjoyed which others were sometimes lacking.

"They have," he agreed. "Theodore as well."

"I wouldn't be so quick to count him as your ally," Daphne warned him. "He is there for Adrian, not you, and aligns himself with you not because of your opinions, but because of his dislike of Malfoy."

"Perhaps I don't know what my opinions are," Edmund challenged her. "Surely no one expects a boy of thirteen to have formally solidified views on the world."

Daphne chuckled. "I forgot your birthday just passed," she grinned. Edmund had an October birthday, making him one of the oldest in the year, only behind Lily Moon and Seamus Finnegan. It had passed with little fanfare. Edmund practiced the ancient pureblood custom where birthdays did not become a big deal until fifteen, when he was considered above the age of consent, allowing him to sign contracts for himself, and manage his own finances without a guardian or a regent. Nonetheless, his family had sent him a new cloak, which he wore over his school robes to protect from the brisk wind of the Scottish Highlands and Daphne had given him a new cloak clasp which he also wore, but on his school robes. The clasp was steel, which Edmund had told her he preferred to silver due to its strength, and was shaped in the form of two serpents coiled together.

"But still," his friend had continued. "Hiram Nott, Theo's father was a Death Eater. He denied it just like Malfoy, but Hiram Nott and Lucius Malfoy were notorious rivals for the Dark Lord's favor. Theo has probably grown up with a deep resentment towards the Malfoy's and sees you as the best way to keep Malfoy in obscurity while at school."

Edmund had never told Daphne about his conversation with Adrian, but she had put the pieces together herself and had even been supportive of it, offering him advice and also doing her part to reach out to her sister and the other first years. Edmund valued her advice greatly, as her family traveled in similar circles to families such as the Notts and Malfoys and while not supporters of those families, were Slytherin to the core and a much-needed resource for Edmund's ambitions. Daphne's father Michael Greengrass was a successful businessman and her uncle, Gregor Greengrass was a member of the Wizengamot and had once been a favorite of supporters of the Dark Lord to replace Millicent Bagnold against Barty Crouch. Gregor Greengrass himself had never pledged support to the Dark Lord according to Daphne, but as she explained it, people such as Hiram Nott and Corban Yaxley had backed her uncle because he was seen as the safest law-abiding citizen who would be open to their views. Privately, once again according to Daphne, the man was very much opposed to the Death Eaters and the havoc they wrecked upon Wizarding Britain.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said slowly. "But for now, he is useful."

"And besides," he added as an afterthought. "There isn't much place for his views these days, are there? The Dark Lord is long gone."

Daphne simply nodded her head silently as they turned to return inside the castle to escape the wind, which had grown even more forceful. Charms went by in a blur, with Edmund being the first to successfully use the scouring charm to clean a puddle of custard tart Professor Flitwick had placed thrown onto his desk.

That evening the team had Quidditch practice, much to everyone's dismay. The Halloween Feast was spectacular, and Edmund had little interest in squeezing in practice before dinner. Nonetheless, Flint worked them long and hard, and it was a browbeaten and muddy Edmund who trudged off the pitch with Harlan and Adrian in tow. The three of them were the youngest on the team and were particularly exhausted from the workout. After quickly showering in his dormitory, Edmund rushed out to the Common Room where Harlan was waiting at one of the study rooms.

"Adrian was just getting out of the shower when I left," he informed Edmund.

"Of course," Edmund muttered. "Well, he still has time. The house elves won't send the food up for another twenty minutes."

"Let's just hope we have some seats left for us that aren't by the door and the draft."

After a few moments, Adrian joined them. "Oh, don't give me that look," he retorted at Harlan's pointed gaze. "We have plenty of time."

The three set off from the Common Room to head towards the Great Hall, where they could hear students above them entering just from the echoes that reverberated throughout the dungeon hallways. "It's funny," Adrian commented again. "Last year at this time, a troll was released in the school."

"Draco reacted very poorly to that," Edmund sniggered as both older boys laughed at his reference to last year when Malfoy had taken the news of a troll in the dungeons with a certain degree of panic that had surpassed what most would consider acceptable even for an eleven-year-old.

"We never did find out who was responsible for that," Harlan commented idly as they finally reached the Entrance Hall. "Dumbledore and the Ministry kept it very hush-hush."

The matter was left on the backburner as the trio entered the Great Hall and scanned the Slytherin table for spare space. Edmund finally saw some space next to Theo and another next to Daphne. "Why don't you two sit next to Theo," he pointed. "I'll go join Daphne and Tracey."

The third years nodded briefly before slitting up to sit next to their year-mate while Edmund went around to the other side to sit with Daphne, who had been talking to Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. The food appeared the minute Edmund sat down, filling the table with so much food he briefly wondered what would happen to the leftovers before quickly pushing the thought out of his head.

"How was training?" Tracey asked.

"Tiring," he answered shortly between bites of a chicken breast. "Must eat now in case there's another troll this year."

The other first years, even Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, laughed uproariously, which in Edmund's opinion, was a bit hypocritical seeing as everyone remembered those three's reaction the prior year. Deciding not to push it, he listened as Pansy complained to the table about a letter she had just received from her mother telling her that the family's planned visit to Florence over the Christmas Holidays had to be canceled and that they would instead be visiting an elderly cousin in Warsaw.

Unlike last year, the Halloween Feast was quite uneventful, which suited all of them just fine. Eventually, after eating their fill and more, Professor Dumbledore, with a twinkle in his eye, had dismissed them all to bed. Slowly, everyone filed out of the Great Hall and towards the corridor of the Sleeping Dragon, which had shortcuts used by all four houses. Edmund, Daphne, Tracey, Blaise, and Helen were in the middle of a group of Slytherins when suddenly, the crowd stopped, and a few gasps could be heard. Squirming to the front of the group, Edmund stopped and stared as he saw Mrs. Norris hanging from a brazier, with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger in the center, staring at the blood-written words on the wall. "You'll be next mudbloods," Draco Malfoy sneered.

* * *

 **A/N:** So there ends the chapter. Read and review and let me know what you think. I value your comments public and private. For those of you wondering, I am not making Edmund some super powerful God-like Wizard, don't worry. He isn't even top of his class, although he may be the top of the Slytherins in his year. Remember that he is young but also ambitious and sometimes, not just at that age but at all ages, we have overly ambitious goals. He is human too. All this will really matter when we got to the fifth year, but I have taken the opportunity to start fleshing out his character even more. Next chapter will discuss not only the attacks but the first Quidditch game.


	16. Chapter 16

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **By Elk99**

 **Chapter 16**

 **A/N:** Faster then I expected, but I was happy with how this chapter came out and didn't want to wait to post it. Y'all have waited awhile before so for you, dedicated readers, I wanted to make sure I got this up. I realized a mistake I made with the spelling of Tracey's name in the last chapter and corrected that. I also called Bletchley Miles instead of Marcus so I went back and changed that as well. I wanted to thank all of y'all who bother to read and review this. I'm truly appreciative. Without further ado, this all belongs to Madam Rowling!

* * *

The week following the Halloween Feast and Mrs. Norris' petrification was filled with rumors and gossip, many directed either at Harry Potter or the rest of Slytherin House. Professor Snape had entered the Slytherin Common Room that night and subjected the House to a lecture about proper decorum and language in the corridors. The stern potions master warned them that people would be quick to put the blame on the petrification to their house, and that under no circumstances should that sentiment be encouraged. "I have enough going on and will not put out fires of panicking students," he told them before sweeping from the room.

The Prefects were also on high alert. Yaxley established a schedule, with the Head Girl, that always kept at least one Slytherin Prefect in the Common Room while the other five were patrolling. Gemma had privately discussed her frustrations with Edmund one night while she was reviewing his History of Magic Essay, with a few choice words at the Senior Seventh Year.

Mr. Filch was, understandably, very put out by the loss of his cat, and if not keeping vigil over Mrs. Norris in the Hospital Wing, he was skulking around the corridors with a handful of excuses to put students in detention. Edmund had never minded Mrs. Norris, and Filch, remembering when Edmund had approached him last year with information about Draco Malfoy's deception, didn't bother him.

With the first match of the Quidditch Season coming up the following Saturday, Edmund had very little time to pay attention to the gossip surrounding the Chamber of Secrets, or Filch, as Flint was working them to the bone with early practices every morning consisting of runs around the lake, swimming, and regular exercises before the team even was allowed on a broom. Last year, Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin for the first time since Charlie Weasley when Potter caught the snitch in his mouth. Flint had taken it as a personal insult and even their defeat over Gryffindor for the Cup later in the year did not satisfy him, as Potter had been holed up in the Hospital Wing.

As much as Higgs was a competent Seeker, Flint was counting on Edmund to distract Potter for as long as possible until either the Slytherin Chasers racked up a 150-point lead, or Higgs got to the snitch. As a result, Edmund was not only practicing precision training but speed training as well with Higgs and Bletchley. The first practice had gone until 7 in the morning, leaving them just enough time to hit the showers and make it to breakfast on time, where he often had just enough energy to eat but little else. His grades had not slipped as a result, but he did notice he was participating in class less and less. It wasn't enough to be a problem, he decided, but he was gaining fewer points as a result.

In the evenings, he did his homework with Daphne and Gemma always volunteered to review it, before he went to bed for his early wake up the next morning at 5:00. This continued until Thursday, when Flint began to taper and held a shorter and less intensive practice, probably to avoid a mutiny Edmund had privately thought.

Friday morning, they merely did a few laps around the pitch and tossed the quaffle around. Flint may have been a taskmaster, but he would never work his players hard the day before a match. Instead, he preferred to test their knowledge of the plays he could call out at any given time in a match. Higgs did not really need to be part of this, but he was made to participate nonetheless. As they flew, Flint would call plays and the team would have to demonstrate. Gerald Delavan, a Slytherin Alumni who now played professionally for the Pride of Portree had passed this advice down and Flint utilized it almost religiously the day before a match.

"Tomorrow is the day, lads," he told the team as he finished calling plays. "We have worked hard for a month. Now it's time to prove it."

With that, the burly boy walked out of the Changing Rooms and up towards the Castle, followed by the rest of his team. Edmund knew that Flint and Warrington would try to mess with some on the Gryffindor team as they did every year, although a major difference was that there was no Derrick and Bole to help them. Adrian did not typically engage in the pranks against the Gryffindors and Edmund and Harlan took his cue. The effect of this was a much less tense Saturday morning as both teams were devoid of insult and injury.

Edmund sat with Daphne and Tracey in his Quidditch Robes, pushing around a pile of eggs on his plate.

"You need to eat," Tracey announced. "Piling more food onto his plate. If those eggs aren't gone soon you'll regret it on the pitch."

Knowing she was right, Edmund quickly ate up the rest of his breakfast. Swallowing a glass of pumpkin juice, he watched as the hall interrupted into cheers as Oliver Wood led the red-robed Gryffindor team out of the Great Hall. Edmund took the time to survey his competition. His main target was Harry Potter, the seeker, but it would be good to know the rest of the team as well. He had never played against Gryffindor and had seen them play, and they were good, but everyone had a weakness.

Potter's was that he had no strength. He was all speed but very little else. If Potter ended up flying into the wind at any point, Edmund wouldn't have a problem keeping up with him, but if they were flying into the wind, he would need to improvise in order to follow the orders of his Quidditch Captain.

Oliver Wood was more built and was an excellent Keeper. It was said that he and Sullivan Fawley were the best keepers Hogwarts had seen in years, and it was likely both would go on to play professionally. He would probably be susceptible to an Adolar Attack similar to the one Edmund, Derrick, and Adrian used on Sullivan last year, but hopefully, that was something Harlan and the Chasers could focus on.

The Weasley twins were behind Potter and Wood. Great Beaters the both of them, helped by the fact that they worked phenomenally well together in sync, he and Harlan would have to work against them solo, as the nature of today's strategy allowed the Weasley's an advantage; divided opposing beaters. Hopefully, they could pull it off.

The three girls on the Gryffindor team, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet also made a formidable grouping, but not as good as Flint, Warrington, and Adrian. They were of slight build which was perfect for agile maneuvers, but they had no one to provide strength to their formation. All agility and no strength could be exploited. Flint and Warrington could easily flank them while Adrian tried for an interception at the goal posts.

After a few moments, Flint signaled his players and Edmund stood up to raucous cheers from Slytherin that made up for the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor cheers from earlier. Hufflepuff was strangely divided, and out of the corner of his eye, as he lined up behind Terrence Higgs, Edmund saw Sullivan and Cedric Diggory clapping for him. Smiling, he kept his head up as he walked past the cheers and boos, and towards the Quidditch Pitch.

People were entering the grounds of Hogwarts through the Hogsmeade Gate, Edmund could see as they left the Castle and turned right towards the Quidditch Pitch. He wondered briefly if his family was coming to the match today. He knew his mother had wanted to take more time to come to these matches, or so she had said to Sullivan last year, but he wasn't sure if that was just for Hufflepuff games.

Flint ushered them into the changing rooms, where he quickly went over the strategy again. 'Remember Fawley," he turned to Edmund with a beady eye and a snarl. "Stay on Potter's tail."

The 'or else' was left unsaid.

"Ever inspiring words from our captain," Edmund whispered to Harlan as Flint began to head towards the tunnel leading to the Quidditch Pitch.

Soon enough, the unmistakable voice of Lee Jordan could be heard over the roar of the crowd as the Gryffindor team was introduced.

"SPINNET, JOHNSON, BELL, WEASLEY, WEASLEY, WOOD and POTTERRRR!" The red blurs of the Gryffindor team on their new brooms spun around the pitch as Lee Jordan continued his running commentary.

"TODAY MARKS THE FIRST GAME OF THE SEASON, OUR TRADITIONAL OPENER OF GRYFFINDOR, VERSUS SLYTHERIN. BOTH TEAMS WILL, FOR THE FIRST TIME, BE TRYING OUT THE NEW NIMBUS 2001 RACING BROOMS.

"AND HERE COME THE SLYTHERINS," Edmund ignored the lack of excitement in Jordan's voice as he mounted his broom and prepared to fly out.

"FLINT, WARRINGTON, PUCEY, FAWLEY, MATHEWS, BLETCHLEY, and HIGGS!"

The typical jeers from the Gryffindor section of the stands were usual, but what caught Edmund off guard was the lack of tension coming from the majority of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections, which clapped politely, an almost amusing contrast to the obnoxious jeers and the unbridled enthusiasm of the Gryffindor and Slytherin sections respectively. As he raced around the pitch in the V-Formation, behind Adrian and ahead of Bletchley, he snuck a look at some of the parents stands and saw his parents and grandfather sitting with Augusta Longbottom.

 _The pressure was on_.

"A FEW CHANGES TO THE SLYTHERIN ROSTER THIS YEAR," Jordan was saying over the megaphone. "CAPTAIN MARCUS FLINT SELECTED SECOND YEAR, FAWLEY AND THIRD YEAR, MATHEWS TO REPLACE SIXTH YEARS, DERRICK AND BOLE. FAWLEY, A RESERVE BEATER LAST SEASON WAS CREDITED WITH USING THE ADOLAR ATTACK ON HIS OWN BROTHER, ALLOWING SLYTHERIN TO ADVANCE TO THE TIE-BREAKER WITH GRYFFINDOR AND TO EVENTUALLY KEEP THE QUIDDITCH CUP. THE GRYFFINDOR LINEUP HAS STAYED THE SAME WITH YOUNGEST SEEKER OF THE CENTURY, POTTER READY AFTER BEING INJURED BEFORE THE CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH."

Edmund began to tune out the commentating as he took his bat out of his robes. He looked over at Potter, leisurely swopping around the Goalposts. The Gryffindor was, objectively, one of the best players in the school and fairly popular as well. The crowds wouldn't take well Flint's antagonizing tactic, that is if they actually blamed Flint and not him. Following Potter with a Beater's bat would definitely attract the watchful gaze of Madam Hooch and probably make him susceptible to fouls. Potter's speed advantage was no longer even a factor in his worries. Not even Nimbuses were faster than a well-aimed bludger.

Three shrill whistles called Edmund's attention back to the field. The teams were getting into position as Flint and Wood were standing with Madam Hooch. "I want a clean game," the flying instructor's amplified voice could be heard by all fourteen players.

Edmund flew into position flanking Adrian on the Chaser's right while Harlan flanked Warrington's left. Bletchley was in position at the Goalposts which was where Wood was heading now. Spinnet looked across from Flint, who growled menacingly from between Warrington and Adrian. Higgs was somewhere beyond Edmund's vision but he could see Potter directly above whichever Weasley was facing him. With another shrill whistle, the bludgers were released while Madam Hooch hurled the quaffle into the air. The match had begun.

Edmund shot into the air. At the same time, he saw Harlan intercept a bludger and direct it to Katie Bell who had taken possession of the quaffle, forcing her to drop it, where it was promptly intercepted by Adrian who took off towards the goalposts. Edmund raced up to tail Potter, and as if his prayers had been answered, a bludger raced up to meet him, which he promptly whacked in the direction of the Gryffindor Seeker, catching him in the leg.

"THE MATCH HAS BEGUN WITH FAWLEY SENDING A DIRECT HIT TO POTTER'S LEG! SURELY THAT HAS TO BE A FOUL, POTTER WASN'T DOING ANYTHING!"

It wasn't a foul, however. Edmund had checked the rules thoroughly after Flint had given him his task. Many times there was a grey area when it came to fouls, leaving much to the discretion of the referee. Luckily, bludgers sent up or down from a certain distance were not fouls, and Edmund had not been close enough or at the same altitude as Potter.

Wood must've yelled at one of the Weasley's to defend the star Seeker because one of them came up with a guarded expression. Edmund paid him little mind, racing past him to continue tailing Potter. He made sure to keep a certain distance from the Seeker. When a bludger came, he would fall back a bit to ensure that he was far enough away for it to not be a foul. Soon enough the bludger came back, but this time was going straight for Potter with no interference from Edmund. He raced towards the bludger.

Potter did a twirl and drop down to avoid it, giving Edmund enough time and enough distance to whack it down towards the seeker, aiming it a little bit ahead of where the seeker should be in order to cut him off track. As long as he felt boxed in and avoiding bludgers, he would not be searching for the Snitch. To his dismay, the bludger changed course and began a tangent that would hit his target square in the back. That would mean a foul, quite a big one, which he couldn't let happen. He raced after the bludger.

"Potter!" he yelled, getting the Seeker's attention for a moment, which was just enough time for the bludger to fly inches past his face.

"IT LOOKS LIKE WE HAVE A SITUATION GOING ON WITH EDMUND FAWLEY AND HARRY POTTER!"

Flint and Wood both called for a timeout at the same time.

"What in Morgana's bloody name is the issue, Fawley?" Flint demanded as he joined the huddled circle. "It's a circus up there!"

"That's a rogue bludger, Flint," Edmund was panting from the exertion of saving Potter from a rather severe injury. "It was going to crush his spinal cord."

"Don't aim it there, idiot," his Captain was very pissed off.

"Do you think I did it intentionally?" Edmund retorted. "Don't insult my aim, Flint!"

"What do you mean, it's rogue?" Bletchley interrupted.

"I mean I don't have to do anything," Edmund exclaimed. "In fact, I think my presence up there is putting Potter in lethal danger seeing as I'm just adding momentum to its trajectory."

The team was silent at that. Edmund snuck a look, where one of the Weasley twins was shooting him dark looks while the other was gesturing wildly to Wood.

"Well," Flint spoke up. "If one bludger is already doing our job for us, then I guess you can help Harlan run interference with the Chasers, but I want one eye on Potter at all times. We want Higgs to get the snitch well before him."

Edmund nodded his assent as his Captain looked to the rest of the team. "The rest of you, we need to better capitalize on our advantage. Pucey, stop pining after Bell and actually intercept the quaffle like you did in the beginning."

Adrian turned a deep red before Madam Hooch blew the whistle, calling an end to the timeout. Play resumed, but this time, Edmund shot towards Oliver Wood, which conveniently, allowed him to keep an eye on Potter and the Weasley twins up ahead, who were guarding him.

"IT LOOKS LIKE FLINT HAS CALLED OFF HIS ATTACK DOG AS WOOD SENDS BOTH BEATERS UP TO DEFEND POTTER," the obnoxious commentating of Lee Jordan continued. "BUT THE BLUDGER IS STILL GOINJG AFTER HIM! FAWLEY MUST HAVE CURSED IT-"

"Jordan!"

"SORRY PROFESSOR. AS HARRY WORKS ON OUTFLYING THE BLUDGER, FAWLEY JOINS THE FRAY SENDING A BLUDGER TOWARDS HARLAN MATHEWS. MATHEWS HITS IT BACK TOWARDS WOOD, WOOD DODGES BUT OH! SLYTHERIN SCORES. 50-20 FOR SLYTHERIN."

Edmund had been so caught up both attacking and defending Potter he had totally missed that Slytherin was ahead of Gryffindor. He still kept an eye on Potter, leaving most of the calls to Harlan, but it didn't look like he was needed up there. Without him, the bludger continued to go after Potter and he and the Weasley's had their hands full avoiding it. He felt bad, truly, but he also had learned from Flint that he needed to take every possible advantage that offered itself up. As he smacked another bludger towards Alicia Spinnet, he was struck by inspiration.

With a quick turn of his broom, he swept over to Harlan Mathews. "Let's get the other bludger up to the sky," he grinned.

The other boy shared the grin before speeding off after a bludger while Edmund followed Flint, who had hung back to defend Bletchley in case Adrian and Warrington lost control of the quaffle.

"We want to send the other bludger up to the Weasleys," Edmund told him. "Doesn't look like they are getting enough work up there."

Flint's smile was almost frightening. "I like how you think," he chuckled before moving off to intercept Alicia Spinnet.

"Edmund! Incoming!" Harlan had called his attention before smacking a bludger straight towards him.

To Edmund, it seemed to come in slow motion, allowing him enough time to note where the Weasleys were. He didn't want to his Potter. The Gryffindor Seeker had his hands full with one. Tilting his bat at an upward angle, he pulled his arm back and smacked the bludger with as much force as he could muster, sending it rocketing towards the Gryffindor beaters. They didn't see it in time, and the distraction of trying to protect their seeker made them a vulnerable target.

"FRED WEASLEY HAS BEEN HIT BY A BLUDGER FROM EDMUND FAWLEY," Edmund had no clue how Lee Jordan was able to differentiate the two, even if he was their best friend. He watched as Fred briefly lost control of his broom and dropped a few feet, leaving Potter vulnerable to the rogue bludger, which slammed into his side.

"POTTER HAS BEEN HI- WAIT, HIGGS HAS SEEN THE SNITCH!"

All eyes swept to the previously forgotten Higgs as he raced down at an almost ninety-degree angle. Potter wasted no time, immediately going after him, even though clearly in pain. Edmund didn't have time to be sympathetic. Harry Potter was just a better flyer then Terrence Higgs, objectively. He had no doubt the Gryffindor Seeker would gain on Higgs. Edmund quickly surveilled the pitch. Harlan was close to Higgs. He could defend him. Edmund intercepted the rogue bludger and shot it towards Potter again, but it was blocked by George Weasley, who sent it towards Higgs, almost knocking him off his broom, costing him valuable seconds and allowing Potter to catch up. It was neck and neck. Higgs was good, but Edmund knew it wouldn't be good enough. He leant forward, willing his broom forward. Fred Weasley, who had recovered sent another bludger towards Higgs, Harlan wasn't able to send it back towards Potter, so Edmund once again rushed to intercept it.

"IT'S NECK AND NECK AS HARRY POTTER REACHES FOR THE GOLDEN SNITCH! HIGGS IS TRAILING!"

SLAM!

Edmund knocked his bat into the bludger as hard as he could. He couldn't let Harry Potter steal this match from Slytherin. If they lost, Draco Malfoy would have a stage to call for Higgs removal and to be replaced with him. _Not a shot_ Edmund grimaced.

Potter almost had his hands on the snitch when the bludger knocked into his arm, right as the rogue one slammed into the other side. Edmund winced as he heard the sickening crunch of bone and Potter cry out in pain. That would be a foul, he cursed to himself, but before Madam Hooch could blow her whistle, the Slytherin Section erupted into cheers as Terrence Higgs held the snitch up for the crowd to see. Slytherin had won.

"TERRENCE HIGGS HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH AFTER ANOTHER DIRTY PLAY FROM EDMUND FAWLEY."

Lee Jordan's voice sounded outraged.

"SLYTHERIN WINS, 210-40."

Edmund found a rush of exhilaration as he raced his broom over to Terrence Higgs with the rest of the team. Beating Gryffindor was their hardest obstacle.

"That's how you PLAY!" Flint roared, patting the backs of his players. "Intercepting the quaffle, unbalancing their chasers, defending our seeker by distracting the opposition. This is SLYTHERIN!"

Looking down, Edmund saw Harry Potter was laying on the sand near the Gryffindor Goalpost. His sense of decency kicking in, he nudged his broom downwards and went to see the seeker. Higgs was following at his tail. Amazed, the bludger was still attempting to kill Potter apparently. Landing on the ground, bat still in hand, Edmund rushed over to Potter and swung the bat, deflecting the bludger back towards the center of the pitch, almost tearing off his own arm in the process.

It was not enough and began flying back, this time racing close against the ground. Edmund swung the bat vertically against the ground, sending it back to the air before it quickly arced back down. _Someone with a wand needs to end this now_.

Sure enough, someone behind him shouted _Finite Incantatem_ , greatly slowing the bludger down. This time as it came down, Edmund caught it, and with the help of the Weasley twins pushed it into the crate and secured it. The Weasleys gave him grim nods of acknowledgement before heading back to where Potter lay on the ground, kneeling next to him, was Gilderoy Lockhart, Hagrid, and Hermione Granger – who Edmund guessed cast the spell – and Ron Weasley.

"Shouldn't be anything too complicated," Lockhart was saying to Harry and the assembled crowd.

"Excuse me, Professor Lockhart," Edmund spoke authoritatively over the group, causing it to part so that Lockhart could turn around.

"Yes, Mr. Fawley? What is it?"

"Well sir, Higgs and I," Edmund gestured to the Slytherin Seeker, who was still behind him, "were wondering if you could take some photos with us. The Daily Prophet is here, you see."

"Oh," Lockhart's face dawned in understanding. "Why of course, Mr. Fawley, just let me sort out Mr. Potter.."

"With respect, Sir," Edmund interrupted. "The photographer isn't going to wait around, and I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will want to see Potter regardless of your treatment, so maybe Hagrid can take him to the Hospital Wing and get it over with."

Oliver Wood, who had picked up on what he was doing nudged Hagrid, who then stepped in.

"I got 'im, Professor," he grunted as he lifted Harry up and took him towards the Castle, followed by a despondent Gryffindor team.

"Now, Mr. Fawley, where is this photographer?" Lockhart asked, straightening up.

"I'm so sorry sir, he must have left already," Edmund apologized profusely. "I did say he would not be waiting."

He and Higgs walked back towards the Slytherins celebrating in the middle of the pitch, grinning at leaving a very annoyed Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

* * *

After leaving a very happy group of Slytherins, Edmund took a detour after showering in the changing rooms and headed up to the Entrance Hall while the rest of his house returned to the Dungeons to prepare for the party to come. As he reached the Entrance Hall, he saw his family in a crowd of other visitors to the school. His father was listening to something Sullivan was saying.

"Grandfather, Father, Mother," he greeted his family as he reached them.

After a hug from his mother and a handshake from his father and grandfather, Edmund went on to tell them about his classes before his father brought up the match.

"Quite a match that was," he nodded his head. "I must say I wasn't sure if you would pull it off."

"Very precise aim you have there," Simon Fawley shook his head. "Well done, well done."

"Is young Mr. Potter alright?" his mother asked.

"His arm is crushed," Edmund said. "Shame what happened really."

Sullivan scoffed. "You shot a bludger at him."

"Would you have let him catch the snitch?" Edmund asked.

Sullivan was unable to answer that one, and conflicted, decided not to continue. His father had other plans however.

"That was an… interesting strategy in the beginning of the match," he began before Edmund waved him off.

"It was actually in theory a really good one, but Flint didn't – nor did anyone else for that matter – count on a rogue bludger going after Potter."

"So that wasn't planned?" Sullivan asked.

Edmund stared. "How could that have been planned. You know how many wards are on those things. The plan was to keep Potter boxed in and focused on dodging bludgers that Terrence could find the snitch. I had to stop because my efforts combined with the bludgers would have killed Potter.

"Quite a nuisance really," he continued to muse. "Had I just tailed him and there had been nothing wrong with the bludger, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to fly away and chase after Higgs."

"Well as long as you did not mean to be malicious," his mother cautioned.

"Relax mother," Edmund shrugged. "Sullivan can confirm the teams don't get up to the same tricks they did last year."

Satisfied with his reassurances, the Fawley parents continued to update their sons on the happenings at home while Grandfather Fawley went off to talk with a friend he had seen, bidding his grandsons goodbye. They spent a few minutes talking with each other before Ned and Elodie Fawley made their preparations to depart. "And what will you boys be up to tonight?" Madam Fawley fixed her sons with a steady eye.

"I'm off to the Common Room," Sullivan supplied. Edmund had no doubt that Hufflepuff would be throwing a party just for the sake of having a party.

"I'm going to the Hospital Wing to check on Potter, first," Edmund told his mother, who had now turned her attention to him. "Want to make sure his arm is going to be okay."

"That is very good of you," she smiled. "And your defense of him on the ground was very chivalrous if I do so say."

"You're turning into a fine young man, Edmund," Ned Fawley added. "You both are."

With that, the Fawley siblings said goodbye to their parents before walking to the Grand Staircase. "It was a good game," Sullivan agreed. "The brutality surprised me, admittedly, and it is odd seeing you be the face of it since I've grown up with you. But I get why you did it."

"Thanks, Sully," Edmund smiled. "Don't worry I'll go easy on Diggory when we play you."

"Ha," Sullivan snorted. "We shall see. The brooms will only help us."

"Yes," Edmund sighed. "I'm glad that plan went off so easily."

"How'd Flint take it?"

"Not well. I thought he would explode."

Sullivan chuckled. "That's a sight I would've paid to see."

With a quick goodbye, the siblings parted ways, Sullivan to join his housemates, while Edmund braced himself as he walked up the stairs to the Hospital Wing. He didn't want to show his face in what he was sure what be the Gryffindor's consolation party and alone time, but he was a gentleman raised with proper mannerisms. He had injured Potter, and not lightly. It was only appropriate that he should check up on him. To do otherwise would be an insult, not to mention unsportsmanlike.

The double-doors to the Hospital Wing appeared much more quickly then he would have liked. With a sigh, he gritted his teeth and pushed the door open. Potter was lain in a bed in the corner of the room, surrounded by members of the Gryffindor team, as well as Granger and Ron Weasley. Katie Bell, who he happened to know as her father worked with his mother on Wizarding law had a look of sad acceptance on her face, as with Oliver Wood, where some, like Alicia Spinnet and Ron Weasley, had looks of outrage on their faces.

Edmund held up his hand right as he saw the youngest Weasley son open his mouth, most likely to insult him. "Spare me, the lectures, the insults, and the curses, Ronald. I'm not here to gloat, and merely to convey my apologies to Potter."

That shut Ron Weasley up, and Granger looked at him with a thoughtful expression. Finally, after a moment of silence, Oliver Wood spoke up. "Let's give Harry his space." The Gryffindor Captain patted his Seeker on the leg. "It wasn't your fault, Harry," he said, making Edmund shrink within himself. "It was just that damn bludger."

Wood led his team out before stopping at Edmund. Edmund resisted the temptation to step back. The Captain towered over him. "You got a good aim, Fawley," Wood said quietly. "You're brutal and you'd be off my team if you played like that, but thank you for standing and defending my seeker at your own volition. I won't forget that."

Edmund just nodded as the rest of them filed out, leaving Edmund alone with the famed boy-who-lived for the first time in his life.

"Potter," he greeted.

"Fawley," the Gryffindor Seeker replied cautiously, curiosity evident in his eyes.

"I wanted to apologize for the damage that I did to your arm today," he said. "I had nothing to do with the charmed bludger, and Madam Hooch can't figure out what it was either."

"It's alright I guess," he smiled weakly. "You couldn't have known that you'd hit my arm at the same time and directly opposite the other bludger did, and if you did you probably should be playing Professionally."

Chuckling, Edmund steeled himself to prevent shuffling nervously. "How long are you in the Hospital Wing?"

"Madam Pomfrey says I need to be here overnight while she regrows my bones," he grimaced, with what seemed like a hint of awe in his voice. "She said it would be easier to just replace the bones because they are so crushed."

"Skelo-Gro, then?" Edmund asked, wrinkling his nose briefly.

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "it's disgusting."

"At least Lockhart didn't make it any worse," Edmund rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for that," Potter said to him, grinning slightly. "I was sure he was going to vanish my entire arm or something."

"He's a fool," Edmund dismissed. "So stuck up in his own achievements he forgets to teach us how do defend ourselves."

"Listen, Fawley," Potter spoke seriously. "I really ought to congratulate you on the match. It was a good hit and for that, you guys deserve the win."

"Don't worry about it, Potter," Edmund reassured him. "I'm not here to gloat. I just wanted to ensure I wouldn't be responsible for permanent damage."

"Also," he looked up earnestly. "Thank you for stopping me early in the match. George figured that the bludger would have crushed my spine if I had kept going."

"It's just decency," Edmund protested, suddenly uncomfortable with the gratitude.

"Nah, it isn't," the Gryffindor waved his good arm. "A lot of the team was impressed that you blocked the bludger when the match was over. Katie Bell called it bravery worthy of a Gryffindor."

"Oh, please no," Edmund mock moaned. "the last thing I need is to be compared to one of you Lions."

He and Potter just started at each other for a moment before they both chuckled simultaneously, most likely, Edmund figured, at the weirdness of their situation. A Slytherin visiting a Gryffindor in the hospital wing, visiting the boy-who-lived no less. After a time, Edmund figured it was safe to make his exit.

"Listen, Potter, I'm on my way back to my Common Room," he started. "You played well, and I'm sorry it ended the way it did in the fashion it did."

"It's fine, Faw- Edmund. It's fine," the boy replied. "it was a good game."

A stunned Edmund merely nodded and exited the Wing. Potter had, at the end, seemed almost _nice_ as if they were not House Rivals. It isn't something he expected from the boy, but nonetheless, it was not unwelcome. Shaking the feeling, with his duty complete, he made his way back to the dungeons, taking the shortcuts in order to get back to the party that was surely in full swing in honor of their massive victory over Gryffindor.

"Serpentine," Edmund whispered to the blank wall which suddenly appeared as a door to the Slytherin Common Room. As he entered the slim passageway, roaring cheers enveloped him as he joined the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Flint, who was talking to Henry Keating grabbed his arm and raised it, raising Harlan's in the other hand. "Our Slytherin Juggernauts!" the burly Captain proclaimed to the Common Room, which was met with enthusiastic cheers.

"Don't mind the Captain," Marcus Bletchley told him privately a bit later. "He is quite drunk."

Edmund spent the rest of the evening talking with Adrian and Harlan, and then Daphne and Tracey and their friends. Pansy and Draco also made their way over, even if Malfoy looked a bit upset to not be the center of attention. Flint had tried to pass him a flask of firewhiskey, but Henry Keating had seen it from a distance and confiscated it before taking a sip himself and reminding Flint about responsibility.

Adrian spent some time lording it over Edmund that Henry hadn't confiscated the flask he had grabbed from Cassius Warrington, but eventually, he got quite drunk and Keating and Sotheby had to put him to bed in his dormitory, where Harlan soon followed. Knowing that they were at risk of being sent to bed by Gemma, who had been watching them closely even as she gossiped with some of her friends, Edmund, Daphne and Tracey retreated to a corner of the Common Room where they could talk privately.

"I went to see Potter," he told them. "To convey my apologies."

"Honorable," Daphne nodded. "How was it?"

"It was fine," Edmund shrugged. "The team was there, and his friends, so that was a bit awkward, but they seemed to warm up to me."

Not _too_ much of an overstatement.

"You may have to watch for the next issue of TeenWitch," Tracey gushed. "A few people got photographs of you heroically defending the savior of the Wizarding World armed only with a beater's bat."

"And how many of those photos did you keep for yourself, Tracey," Edmund wiggled his eyebrows, causing his friend to blush.

"Anyway," Daphne interrupted the banter. "You'll need to watch your back. We were sitting at the edge of the section, near the Ravenclaws, and we overheard a group saying that they would like to take you and Harlan out of commission for the next game."

"I'll be fine," Edmund waved lazily, resting his feet on the table. "That's why I have you two to protect me from harm."

"Prat!" Daphne punched his arm but giggled nonetheless.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing the finer aspects of the game. Edmund was especially curious about how the game looked from the stands, having missed a good portion of the Chasers in the first half while he was tailing Potter. Eventually, Gemma did come over and send them to bed, but Edmund thought triumphantly, it was much later then the other second-years.

As he settled into his four-poster and pulled the curtains closed, Edmund couldn't help but be content in how the year was going. He had flourished, and everything seemed to be going well. Apart from the prank on Halloween where some older student cast a spell to petrify Mrs. Norris and him accidentally sending Potter to the Hospital Wing, he was having a busy, but also a relaxing year, settling into the groove.

Unfortunately for him, things would get more difficult not just for him, but for his house. The next morning, he walked into the Great Hall to discover that a first year muggleborn Gryffindor, Colin Creevey, had also been found petrified the prior night, and whoever did it was talking about the glory of Slytherin.

* * *

 **A/N:** Fewer breaks because of the detail in the Quidditch Match. Next chapter will go into further detail about how Slytherin deals with the attacks, including the Dueling Club.


	17. Chapter 17

**A Tale Of Rivals**

 **Ch. 17**

 **By Elk99**

* * *

News that Colin Creevey had been petrified the prior night shook the school, and Fred and George Weasley made a business of selling amulets and talismans to ward off the "Heir of Slytherin" that had begun to plague the school. Teachers had ramped up their patrols and were now joining Prefects in force patrolling the corridors every evening. Gemma had told Edmund that each Prefect was now paired with a teacher instead of one of their peers and were made to double their patrols, leaving many of them too exhausted to enforce discipline within the Slytherin Common Room.

"Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor Sixth Year is being a real brownnosing bugger this year," she told him. "He hopes to make Head Boy next year and he probably will but he is so annoying in the process."

Classes continued as usual, along with Quidditch Practices. With Gryffindor defeated, Flint was drilling Edmund and the rest of the team mercilessly as the nights grew longer and the temperature colder in the Scottish Highlands. Edmund and Daphne had begun to take their heavy cloaks to their walks on the ramparts, as it was too cold to remain outside with just their school robes, even with the Slytherin warming charms they had been taught to survive in the dungeons, and the corridors were packed with students who could no longer be outside.

In the first week of December, Slytherin played Hufflepuff, Sullivan's first go as Captain. It was an excellent match. Once again, Edmund and Mathews beating was on full display as they worked to ensure Higgs got to the snitch before Diggory. The Slytherin and Hufflepuff Seeker were both evenly matched, Higgs having a slight advantage in speed, but the real disparity came between Sullivan and Marcus Bletchley. The Slytherin Keeper was nice, but he couldn't hold a candle to the older Fawley brother. Multiple times, Flint had to send Edmund to protect the Slytherin Chasers and distract his older brother, which was a big crowd pleaser. Lee Jordan's commentary about the game had spent a lot of time featuring Edmund and Sullivan Fawley. Eventually, Higgs caught the snitch, giving Slytherin a narrow win 190-150. Ravenclaw had lost to both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, which put the Badgers tied with Gryffindor for second place. If Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff, they'd go to a tournament at the end of the school year for the Quidditch Cup to be awarded.

The biggest news for Edmund had been a letter from his parents that they would be going to Berlin to visit Meredith and as a result, Edmund and Sullivan could either stay at Hogwarts or visit their cousins the Macmillans. Both agreed that they would rather be at the school than with their pompous family on their mother's side and told Professor McGonagall that they would be staying at Hogwarts when she came around asking students. Edmund was displeased to learn that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, would all be staying at the school this year, a displeasure only lessened when he learned that Gemma would also be staying behind as well.

Shortly before the break, the school held their first dueling club meeting in the Great Hall. Lockhart had led the meeting and done a terrible job before Professor Snape stepped in and broke everyone off into pairs. Edmund was working on the disarming spell while Tracey used the shield spell to rebound his attacks when Lockhart asked for a demonstration from Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter that led to the reveal of the Gryffindor Golden Boy as a Parselmouth. As Potter was dragged out of the shell-shocked Great Hall by Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, Edmund heard the Hufflepuffs clamoring in fear, with many whispers going around that he was the heir of Slytherin.

As Professor Snape sent all the Slytherins back to their common room, Edmund couldn't help but feel doubt that Harry Potter, an unassuming twelve year old could be the Heir of Slytherin who petrified anyone he pleased, especially Colin Creevey. Regardless, the revelation that he could talk to snakes was a bit alarming. What didn't help Potter was that the very next day he was found next to a petrified Justin Finch-Fletchley and a smoky apparition of Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor House Ghost, and subsequently taken to the Headmaster's Office. Professor Dumbledore found Potter non-complicit in any dealings, but the rumor mill remained in full swing, with Muggleborns running away from him in the halls. If it was not such a serious topic, Edmund would have laughed at the irony that he who had vanquished the Dark Lord was now being accused of terrorizing the muggleborn.

Edmund spent the Christmas Holidays holed up in the Common Room finishing all his homework under the careful eye of Gemma, who had promised him that she would show him how to really duel once he got it done. Sure enough, his homework for the two weeks was done in record time, finishing two days before Christmas, and as promised, Gemma took him to a room in the dungeons, even further below the Common Room, to teach him dueling.

The chamber was dark and moldy, but with a flick of her wand, it was illuminated in a soft green light. It was a large rectangular hall with a sunken floor, reminding Edmund of something from the Roman times.

"This room hasn't been used in three-hundred years in any official capacity," Gemma told him. "When the Castle was first built and classes first began, this chamber was used as a meeting space for the Society of Seaxneat, God of the Saxons. They were a group of Wizards, witches were initially barred from entry, who believed in the purity of the Saxon people. They opposed the influx of Norman magic and Danish influences and sought to purge them."

"Sounds like a cheery group," Edmund muttered. "What happened to them?"

"They are largely forgotten," Gemma answered him, standing near one of the arches. "It is said that Rowena Ravenclaw was a member, and as a result, the society remained untouched until they eventually died out due to the lack of enthusiasm for their ideas, but I haven't been able to validate that."

"How do you know this," he asked, standing in the center of the large chamber, looking up above to where the prefect stood. The room reminded him eerily of one of the Wizengamot chambers, but the dais was raised on all sides and was rectangular instead of circular.

Gemma pointed to a door out of Edmund's direct sight. "Apart from the entrance we came through, this chamber is peppered with small rooms with loads of material in them. I found out about the society from a journal of one Alfred Aeonor from Gryffindor House, who was Head Boy in his last year and also was the first recipient of Special Services to the School.

"I took most of the stuff in my fourth year," she continued, seeing Edmund's wistful look. "I found it and finders are keepers in this case."

"What do you do here?" Edmund asked, now climbing the stone dais.

"Work on spells," Gemma said. "Spells that I don't want others to know about."

"So why are you showing me?" he asked again, growing more and more curious.

"I have no further use for this room," the older girl shrugged. "I know your ambitions, Edmund Fawley. I consider myself a good judge of potential and there is only one person in your year who will be a better leader then you if you apply yourself."

"Why not the best?" he challenged.

Gemma chuckled. "Humility, Edmund," she said, pulling a tome out of her bag. "Now let's work on dueling."

Together the two spent multiple hours in the chamber exchanging spells, starting with the disarming charm and working up to more and more dangerous spells. Gemma was an excellent dueler and probably could have put Lockhart down easily. He could tell that she was going easy on him even though he was working up quite a sweat in his efforts. Finally, after a well-placed tripping hex, he fell down to the ground, too tired to dodge quickly enough.

"That wasn't bad," Gemma said, holding out a hand to him. "We can do this daily over break."

And so Edmund found himself working hard every morning dueling with Gemma, not even getting a break on Christmas Day. Nonetheless, he found the holidays to be very enjoyable. Sullivan had gotten him a new pair of Quidditch gloves. He received a new cauldron set from Tracey, a collection of Honeydukes Confectionary from Blaise, a new cloak from Daphne and the Greengrass family. His parents sent him a book on the History of the Wizengamot while his Grandfather, ever the proud Irishman, sent him a book on Irish Roots from the family library at An Glóirmhar which he carefully his in the folds of his trunk. What was most surprising was a gift from Gemma. It was an old book, but the binding had been replaced. The gold letters on the front of the tome spelled out one word. _Gaeldorcraeft._ The author, _Alfred Aeonor_.

Edmund was struck. It was written in old English, but Gemma seemed to have charmed the text to translate into something he could better understand. The first page had an icon of a large man wearing a crown and brandishing a staff, who Edmund guessed to be an image of Seaxneat. The book was filled with interesting strategies and spell ideas. Alfred Aeonar apparently went on to become a Charms Master that taught at Hogwarts before disappearing in an attempt to cross the Atlantic Ocean.

Aeonor went in depth on the theory behind charms and how even basic charms can be modified to form even more powerful and sometimes deadly spells. Knowing he had to get to breakfast to wish Sullivan a happy Christmas, he put the book away, resolving to read as much of it later as he could.

One odd event that occurred was Christmas Night. Edmund had been sitting in the common room listening to Gemma Gossip about the latest news from TeenWitch when a commotion caused Crabbe and Goyle to run out of the room, hands in their heads, leaving a flabbergasted Malfoy behind them. "Weirdos," Edmund had shaken his head at Gemma before returning to the Aeonor book.

By the time break had ended, Edmund had started to get in better shape from the constant dueling exercises combined with his Quidditch Exercises. He welcomed his friends back and heard all about their winter breaks and assured that he had indeed stayed active while in the castle. The break had seemed to lessen the tension that the petrification of Creevey and Mrs. Norris had caused, a disturbing feeling Edmund attributed to the relaxation and excitement that occurred during the Christmas Holidays.

Sure enough, the break had been much needed as the Professors got back to the business of assigning a great deal of homework, which Edmund tackled with a ferocity. His learning had benefited from his training in occlumency, which helped him focus on finishing what he needed to do without being distracted. Professor Kettleburn had eventually told him at their first meeting after the break, that it was no longer strictly necessary to keep having their lessons. According to the old, grizzled, Professor, Edmund's mind was one of the most secure fortresses he had seen in a good while, calling it a Nurmengard in its own right. Pleased with the praise, Edmund had wished Professor Ketlleburn a warm goodbye as their last lesson concluded. He couldn't wait until he was tested by his Grandfather.

As his school work progressed along with his Quidditch training, and his sporadic dueling with Gemma, he began to look at what classes he wanted to take next year for his Third Year. He immediately knew he wanted to take The Study of Ancient Runes with Professor Babbling, and Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Kettleburn. Meredith had taken Ancient Runes and Sullivan was planning on getting a NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures. He knew he didn't want to take Arithmancy. Arithmetic was never his strong suit and Arithmancy combined a lot of Arithmetic and Science. Divination seemed boring and there was no way on his life that he would take Muggle Studies.

While he knew the Hogwart's curriculum only mandated that he take two elective classes in his third year, his mother would not tolerate any of her children taking less than three courses. Meredith had taken Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and had, with Professor McGonagall's Permission, taken Alchemy. Sullivan was taking Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination. Edmund had the choice of either sitting through Arithmancy like Sullivan had done, or finding a course he could take. Choosing the latter, he found himself hanging back after Potions one day.

His presence remained unnoticed by Professor Snape as the man hadn't looked up from his papers since dismissing the class. As the last person filed out, Edmund cleared his throat.

His Head of House slowly looked up to find him standing there. Eyes boring into Edmund, he thought he felt the subtlest hints of a legilimancy probe before he strengthened his occlumency shields. If Snape was surprised, he didn't show it.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Fawley?" Professor Snape asked him.

"Sorry for interrupting, Sir," Edmund, who had rehearsed this conversation began smoothly. "Only I was looking at the course registrar for my electives next year. I know you are very busy but I ran into a bit of an issue in making a choice. I have already chosen Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures,"

"And only two courses are required to fill your requirements," the Potions Master interrupted.

"Forgive me, sir, but the bare minimum doesn't suit me, nor do I think it would suit you," he wasted no time in responding.

"Continue," the Professor said after a moment of silence.

"I'd like to take Ancient Studies as my third elective, sir. I have a genuine interest in the course which fits into my academic ambitions whereas some of the other choices… would not."

Snape stared at him for a while before taking out a sheet of parchment and scribbling a note on it. "You will need both the Headmaster and Professor Shafiq's permission to take this course. You have my permission, conditional on you receiving an O in all your core classes, and yes, Mr. Fawley, that includes Herbology."

Edmund felt relief wash over him. He could work harder than usual to get the O in that class. "Thank you, sir," he said earnestly before being interrupted as his Head of House held up a hand.

"Take this scroll to Professor McGonagall," he said. "I have a class to prepare for, but she will make sure you are all sorted."

With a nod to his Head of House, Edmund took the scroll and headed up to the Transfiguration Corridor on the first floor. Nervously, he knocked on the door of the main transfiguration classroom before he heard The Deputy Headmistress call for his entrance.

"Mr. Fawley," she looked up, surprise evident on her face as Edmund opened the door. "What can I do for you today?"

"Good afternoon, Professor," he held up the scroll. "I have this from Professor Snape. He said that you could help me with it."

Curious, the Transfiguration Mistress took the proffered scroll and broke the seal, reading it carefully. Her lips thinned for a brief moment but vanished quickly enough Edmund couldn't be sure if he had imagined it. "Sit down, Mr. Fawley," she gestured to a chair next to her desk.

Edmund took the proffered chair as Professor McGonagall scribbled a note on the same scroll before giving it to her owl that perched on an open window exposed to the Scottish wintry winds.

"I just sent a letter to Professor Shafiq," she said, sitting down and fixing him with a beady eye. "Professor Snape is right to not deny you a request to take Ancient Studies. You are still at the top of your year, far surpassing your peers in your house, and you excel in the practical side of Transfiguration and Charms. However, I must ask, Mr. Fawley, why you wish to take Ancient Studies. It is quite a controversial class, and I'm sure you know that your mother has filed a multitude of resolutions asking the Board of Governor's to cancel it."

Edmund had not been aware of this. There was only one reason his mother would wish a course to be off the curriculum, and that was for political reasons. Madam Fawley was a Champion of rights of the Muggle Born and political equality for them. The current system was an offshoot of the Ancient World. It made sense, Edmund supposed, but not enough to cancel a course.

"The subject interests me, ma'am," he replied. "Learning should not be restricted unless it is harmful."

"Very well." There was no mistaking the pursed lips this time. "Congratulations, Mr. Fawley. I see no reason why we cannot accommodate you."

* * *

After he had received approval to take Ancient Studies, Edmund found himself fascinated by the subject. Alfred Aeonor had become a source of inspiration to him, and he had quickly finished the tome, _Gaeldorcraeft._ After Hogwarts, Aeonor had published several books on Charms but also some accounts of his time delving into the study of the Ancient World. The book was difficult, but Edmund used his occlumency to better sort and comprehend the knowledge.

Valentine's Day had gone by with little fanfare, for Edmund at the very least. No one had sent him one of Lockhart's ridiculous Dwarves and kept himself occupied in what he had taken to call the Seaxneat Chamber finishing his homework away from distraction.

In late February, Slytherin played Ravenclaw. Adrian had a cold and Sotheby played for him. They beat Ravenclaw handily again, making Slytherin undefeated in the regular season, meaning that they would play whoever won the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match for rights to the Quidditch Cup. Excitement for the match built up all through April as the school got ready for the tiebreaker between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. On the day of the match in the second week of May, Edmund found himself enjoying the warmer weather with his friends, sitting in the Slytherin section watching the Hufflepuff Team fly out. Before Gryffindor could fly out onto the Pitch, Madam Hooch began shooing the Hufflepuff players back to the Changing Rooms, while Professor Dumbledore sent everyone back to the common rooms. The match had obviously been canceled.

Later, they learned from Professor Snape that Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater had both been found petrified in the library. Draco Malfoy seemed to be happy, Edmund noted, but it was really a large inconvenience. Students needed to be escorted to classes by a Professor and it was now no longer safe to visit the Seaxneat Chamber. Professor Snape had also implied that the school would be closed if no perpetrator was found.

The next day, Hagrid had been brought to Azkaban and the Board of Governors had been called to investigate Professor Dumbledore. It was a different story than the one Draco had told, which was that his father had singlehandedly gotten the Headmaster sacked. The exaggeration had once again hurt his credibility.

What actually had happened was that Lucius Malfoy had pushed for Dumbledore's removal, but a coalition led by Simon Fawley and Augusta Longbottom had stopped it and instead would begin hearings into the Headmaster's job performance.

Several weeks later, someone was supposedly taken into the Chamber and just as students were being prepared to be sent home, the student, rumored to be Ginny Weasley, was saved. As the students were gathering in the Great Hall that night, rumors abounding that Harry Potter had somehow been involved, the Mandrakes had done their work in waking up the petrified students. In order to celebrate, Dumbledore announced that all exams would be canceled. To Edmund's pleasant surprise, he would not need that O in the Herbology Exam anyway.

At the leaving feast, Gryffindor once again won the House Cup. The Quidditch Cup had gone unawarded this year due to the attacks, but Flint had insisted on displaying the cup at the end of the Slytherin Table. After all, they were still the defending Champions.

The next day, the students boarded the train at Hogsmeade Station. There was no Herbology Camp this year, but the Maylocks would be coming to Ireland for the June Solstice Festival in Slievenamon. Edmund had invited Daphne and Tracey to come along as well. In early August he would get to visit Benjamin in his home in Ghana before heading back to school.

The next day,

Edmund got a compartment on the train with his first-year friends, where they played exploding snap and Wizard's Chess. At one point, Adrian stopped by and invited Edmund and Blaise to his family farm in Wales over the summer. The Pucey's lived in southern Wales and Adrian had invited Theo and a few other Slytherin boys their age.

With Edmund and Blaise invited to Adrian's, Tracey, never one to be left out or outdone, invited Daphne and Helen to her House in Cumbria, promising to invite Pansy and Millicent as well. Sometime in the late afternoon, the scenery began to be more and more familiar as London approached, and they changed out of their Hogwarts robes and prepared to disembark.

"You have to come and say hello to my family," Daphne had begged Edmund, and he allowed himself to be pulled over to the Greengrass parents. Astoria had already found them.

"It's good to see you, Edmund," Daphne's mother smiled at him after the formalities had been exchanged. "Are your parents with you? We really must have them over at some point."

"Of course," Edmund replied, pointing to where he had caught his mother and grandfather standing with Sullivan by the entryway.

Edmund and the four Greengrasses headed over to the waiting Fawleys.

"Aurora," Madam Fawley kissed cheeks with Aurora Greengrass. "It's been far too long!"

"It has, Elodie, I was just telling your charming son that we need to have your family over for dinner."

"But of course, and you must come to the Promenade for the Summer Festival," Madam Fawley said. "My husband and I always host a little do the night before the festival at Slievenamon."

The Greengrasses shared a brief look before Aurora turned back to Edmund's mother. "We would love to, and you must, of course, come to dinner the following week."

As the two mothers talked about details, Daphne's father and Sullivan got into a conversation on how he thought he did on his Ordinary Wizarding Levels, leaving Edmund, Daphne, and Astoria to Simon Fawley. Edmund detected a brief probe, but his defenses were virtually impenetrable by now. His grandfather gave a small smile with his approval before addressing the three. "I trust the three of you had a safe year at Hogwarts?"

"I don't think we had anything to worry about, Lord Fawley," Daphne addressed Edmund's grandfather with the respect given to heads of house in the old traditions. "But it was still a nasty business."

"That it was," the older man agreed. "Shame what happened afterward too."

Astoria beat both Daphne and Edmund to the punch this time. "What happened afterward."

"Ah," Simon Fawley smiled slightly. "Professor Lockhart suffered an accident and is now in the permanent residency ward at St. Mungo's, while Lucius Malfoy has been sacked as a School Governor."

Edmund and Daphne shared a look of surprise before grinning broadly. Edmund had honestly forgotten about Lockhart and had not even noticed his absence after all the excitement with being prepared to be sent home to suddenly have exams canceled. The sacking of Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, explained why Draco had looked so surly in school. Their housemate's influence was eroding much faster than either of them could have hoped for.

"What a way to end the school year."


	18. Chapter 18

**A Tale of Rivals**

 **By elk99**

 **A/N:** _Sorry for the long wait. I did something different with this chapter and made it a bit longer and kept the entire summer in one chapter for the expediency towards the older years. I was not able to get it all in, but there is a plan for that. In the meantime please enjoy this chapter, review it, etc. Everything recognizable belongs to JK Rowling_.

* * *

The Fawley Family always tried to make sure that their children were occupied during the summer holidays. Before they went to Hogwarts, summer break was not something practiced, as Ned and Elodie Fawley believed it was time best spent ensuring their kids had as much information as possible before they went off to school. Once they entered Hogwarts however, the lessons had stopped, and the summer breaks had begun.

With both Edmund and Sullivan home for the summer, Elodie Fawley was determined to fill her boys' time so they would not be bored, which was why Edmund found himself learning how to play the violin instead of lounging about the Promenade.

"Play me a G major, young Master Fawley," his tutor called out, tapping the tempo lightly with his wand.

Scowling slightly, Edmund did as he was told. It was not that he didn't enjoy playing the instrument, but he wanted to do it on his own terms, not his mother's. The lessons had started on the first day of summer break, and while he was apparently progressing like normal, he wanted to be outside flying or swimming. His mother had even made him stay home when Daphne and Tracey had gone to Diagon Alley so that he would not miss his lesson.

Eventually, the Maylocks arrived for the Summer Festival and Edmund was allowed to shirk some responsibility in order to spend time with Martin, who, unfortunately, had to babysit his little sister, Dolly. Martin and Edmund spent a great deal of time flying and playing chess in the days leading up to the festival. Director Maylock, who Edmund had to continue to correct himself and call Madam Maylock, had attended a tea hosted by Edmund's mother and Professor Sprout and the three women discussed Herbology, while Mr. Maylock and Ned Fawley spent a great deal of time talking about international trading routes and politics between the American MACUSA and British Ministry.

Edmund had been allowed to take Martin into Diagon Alley, where the two of them admired the new Firebolt in Quality Quidditch Supplies before going off to browse Dervish and Banges.

"So, who else is going to be there for the Festival?" Martin asked. "That you know, I mean."

"Daphne, Tracey, Neville, Blaise, Helen I know for certain," Edmund answered. "I invited Adrian and Theodore as well but who knows really."

"Daphne… she is the one you like, isn't she?" Martin asked knowingly.

"What if she is?" Edmund answered nonchalantly, even as his insides began to squirm. He had only recently come to terms that he did in fact have feelings for his best friend. To acknowledge said feelings to himself was one thing, but to talk about it aloud was completely different. Martin unfortunately, was oblivious to it.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, _why_?" Edmund asked incredulously. _What kind of question was that?_

"You said you like her," Martin shrugged, examining a packet of stink pellets before setting them down and wrinkling his nose. "I am asking you why you like her."

The conversation for Edmund, was getting incredibly uncomfortable. "I just do," he muttered furiously. "She is funny and pretty and all that."

Martin wisely decided to drop the subject, to Edmund's relief. The two spent the rest of the day in Flourish and Blotts. Edmund scanned the Charms Section for supplements to Standard Book of Spells Grade 3 while Martin checked out the Magical Creatures section. While he was looking through a rather boring book, his mind drifted back to Daphne. His own feelings confused him. Certainly many people had mentioned to him that his friendship with her was special, but he had never really noticed that she was, well, a girl until late in their second year.

Deciding that there would be enough time later to examine his feelings, he shoved the thoughts aside as he went to meet Martin at the door of the shop. Neither of them ended up buying anything. They went to Dervish and Banges to browse before heading back to the Leaky Cauldron to floo to the Promenade.

The day of the Summer Festival was soon upon them, and the entire Fawley family was present at the Promenade. Michael Fawley had granted himself a reprieve from St. Midabaria to join the family, as had Meredith Fawley who greeted Edmund with a bone-crushing hug before beginning a steady stream of questions about everything she had missed since going to Berlin.

"How are your studies? How have the other students been treating you? How-"

"Let the boy be, granddaughter," Simon Fawley came to Edmund's rescue. "Many of us want to hear about you."

Meredith had not come alone. With her, came a guest, who was currently deep in conversation with Ned Fawley. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with pitch black hair and tanned skin. His robes were black pinstripe business robes of the American variety. Standing next to Edmund's father, who was wearing the red and black robes of the Fawley family with his slicked-back brown hair and horn-rimmed spectacles, it looked as of the two were conducting business, although upon closer look, the younger man was definitely a bit nervous.

After a moment, Meredith went over to the two and dragged the man away from her father. "Edmund, Sullivan," she addressed her younger brothers, "May I introduce you, to my good friend, Howard Graves."

Meredith's boyfriend, Edmund decided, had underestimated the decorum drilled into the Fawley children, as both he and Sullivan executed perfect formal salutations. Edmund noticed a flicker of surprise on the American's face.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Graves," Sullivan had shaken his hand. "My brother and I welcome you to Promenade-on-Finn."

"I've read a great deal about you, sir," Edmund stepped in, ignoring the look of warning Merry sent his way. "Rumors of your intentions towards our sister run rampant in the tabloids."

"I'm sure Master Fawley would agree that one cannot believe everything they read in TeenWitch," Graves responded smoothly, barely missing a beat.

"Of course, Mr. Graves," Sullivan took over. "But I'm sure you understand my brother and I must look out for the best interests of our family and mean no offense."

At this point, Meredith interrupted, shooting an annoyed glance at her brothers. "I really think that's enough, boys," she said. "I'm also sure that you will have introductions to make later."

"No one that the father has not already met," Edmund said dismissively as Sullivan blushed briefly. "But do excuse me, I have guests to entertain."

With a brief bow, he left Sullivan, Merry, and Howard Graves to return to Martin, who was impatiently scolding Dolly for something.

"Your sister's boyfriend is Howard Graves?" he asked incredulously.

"She hasn't used that label for them," Edmund replied. "But for all intents and purposes, yes. I've read a great deal on it from TeenWitch."

"So, you know he is big name in American politics, yes?" Martin asked.

"Main branch?" Edmund asked in turn.

"No, once removed I think."

"Then it isn't a huge coup. A good pairing, yes, but not one my sister doesn't deserve."

"What's Sullivan looking so nervous for?" Martin asked, deciding to change the subject knowing that family and relationships were a cultural difference that they would not reconcile anytime soon.

"He invited his new girlfriend," Edmund said with a grin. "And Meredith just reminded him of that."

"Do you know her?"

"Ann Smith? That I do. Hufflepuff in Sullivan's year. Good, pureblood stock, has a brother a year below me."

"What would you do if you fell in love with someone not a pureblood," Martin asked.

"Does it matter?" Edmund retorted, before quickly changing the subject and looking at his watch. "We should head to the Hall. Adrian should be here soon."

* * *

Edmund, Martin, and little Dolly stood outside the gate of Promenade-on-Finn, near the floo hearth, with Simon Fawley, who went to greet his grandson's friends in lieu of Ned and Elodie Fawley being occupied with the guests who had already arrived.

Eventually, the hearth blew into a fierce emerald flame, depositing Adrian Pucey and Harlan Mathews. Edmund quickly introduced them to his grandfather and then Martin. Simon Fawley was very interested in discussing Quidditch with the two members of the Slytherin team and engaged them in conversation until the other guests arrived; Blaise Zabini, Helen Runcorn, and Tracy Davis, all who were introduced.

Eventually, the flames deposited Daphne, as well as her parents and sister. As the Greengrass parents bade their greetings to Simon Fawley, Edmund quickly whispered to his Slytherin friends. "Longbottom is coming as well, with his Grandmother," he shot a look of challenge to them. "Lady Longbottom is a political ally of my mother's on the Wizengamot so as far as I am concerned he is treated with the ultimate respectability."

Martin of course, had already met Neville the previous summer and through their small group at Camp, had become good friends, so it was unsurprising that he greeted Neville as a long lost friend upon his arrival with his Grandmother. Taking a cue from Martin, the others gave the Longbottom scion his due respect.

An hour later, the family and all their guests were huddled together in a circle on the expansive yard in front of the Prom. There were Edmund's friends; Daphne, Tracy, Helen, Blaise, Harlan, Adrian, Neville and Martin, along with the Maylock Parents and Dolly, Augusta Longbottom, and the Greengrass parents and Astoria. With Sullivan was Ann Smith, Cedric Diggory, and Connor MacGregor, along with Amos Diggory, Cedric's fiercely overprotective father. With Meredith stood Howard Graves, and the Fawley parents as well as Michael Fawley and Simon Fawley. Otto Druvitch and Gideon Brocklehurst were also there. It was a much larger group then they usually took to Slievenamon.

Ned Fawley was passing around portkeys. "Groups of five if you please," he was saying. "I will be in the group with the odd man out."

Edmund, Martin, Neville, Dolly, and Helen ended up in one group, huddled around a large glass bottle advertising a Grey Goose. _Strange_ Edmund thought before grabbing the portkey. Seconds later, he felt a pull on his navel and he was violently chucked into a whirlwind before suddenly being gently deposited on a grassy field. Dolly Maylock had somehow managed to maintain a grip on his hand and had landed gracefully, but Helen, Martin, and Neville could not say the same thing, all three briefly glaring at Edmund before getting up.

"Over here, you lot," Ned Fawley called them over to the rest of the group before they reached a plain wooden fence being manned by a short red-haired witch, collecting a toll from Simon Fawley before allowing the whole group to pass through. On the other side of the fence, the Mountain of Slievenamon came into view, with tents sprung up everywhere. It was like a carnival. Edmund, who had been to the Summer Festival many times before began explaining it to his friends.

"The Irish Council every year celebrates the culture and traditions of the Irish wizards and witches at the Summer Solstice here at the base of Slievenamon. The mountain used to be a place of love rituals before it became a popular destination for men to propose to women. Through centuries of this, the mountain and the surrounding area have become strongly infused with love and healing magic. The Irish Council chose it as a location because of the magical concentration and its symbolism, where Irish Wizards took a final stand against British Clans before the International Confederation of Wizards stepped in and proposed the treaty which is in place today."

"Is that Lane McRory?" Tracy asked, pointing to a girl with red hair running around with a few other kids.

"Yes," Edmund nodded in affirmation after a quick glance behind him. "Her father is the Commander of the Irish Defense Corps. It is said he trained under Mad-Eye Moody, but I have never actually verified that."

The group of friends made their way to a large tent where lunch was being served at endless rows of tables with pitchers of butterbeer and pumpkin juice. After sitting down, Edmund realized he had sat down right across from another one of his schoolmates.

"Alright, Seamus?" he asked the Gryffindor.

"Aye, Fawley," Seamus Finnegan acknowledged him, before doing a double take at his company. "Neville?" he asked. 'What are ya doing with this lot?"

Before Edmund could step in a defend Neville, the other Gryffindor held his hand out to stop him, before calmly looking his housemate in the face.

"Because Edmund invited me."

Several hours later, after a day of spectacles and duels, food eating contests, and Gobstone competitions, the Fawley entourage found itself sitting in the dining room of Promenade on Finn, where Simon Fawley was regaling Edmund and his friends with stories from his days as an Auror.

"It was an International Mission in Hungary when my partner, Gavin Marsh spotted suspicious activity in magical Budapest. We were chasing a lead on a follower of Gellert Grindelwald that Theseus Scamander had first apprehended in Paris, but had fled to Budapest. Now we had it on good authority that Grindelwald was in Venezuela so we didn't have any backup readily available. So we followed this dark robed man through the back alleys of the city. When he realized he was being followed, he ran ahead. All of a sudden, we had ten guys chasing after us. We had no choice but to follow our suspicious person, where eventually we apprehended him in an ally, with possession of an entire bag of Woodsuckle. It was the Hungarian Minister for Magic, in possession of a Grade I drug, not one of Grindelwald's men, and the men who had been chasing us? Hungarian Aurors protecting their boss."

That story, which Edmund had never heard before, set the whole room laughing. "Did you ever meet Grindelwald, sir?" Blaise asked.

Simon Fawley instantly sobered. "Aye that I did," he appeared to age a hundred years looking back on it. "The man had a power, a voice that would enthrall you. You'd go in with wands raised and the second he opened his mouth you'd be entranced in his ideals. I have never seen, not even with Albus Dumbledore, anyone master a crowd quite like that maniac could."

The entire room was silent, even the adults had stopped to hear the ex-Auror Chief's account. "His handle on magic was incredible. Watching him move flames, set traps, duel… it was like watching a maestro conduct his own symphony… But that's enough of that," he snapped out of it. "It is the Summer Solstice, not a time to talk about the horrors of the past!"

Eventually, the kids shook out of their thrall and moved on to other points of conversation, but Edmund noticed that his American friend was deep in thought.

* * *

The week following the Summer Solstice Festival and subsequent dinner at the Fawley Estate moved by slowly. Edmund's friends had left late that night and the Maylocks had left the afternoon of the next day. Edmund continued his violin lessons and his mother wanted to test his Latin while his Grandfather would occasionally send a probe at his mind to make sure his occlumency was up to par. On top of all that, his father got the idea that he needed a refresher in Gaelic as well and began assigning him books to read in the language. Edmund did not necessarily mind this exercise, as it allowed him to delve into some topics of Ancient Ireland that would help him in Ancient Studies in the upcoming year.

By the end of the week, Edmund was halfway through a Gaelic tome on the first wizards of Ireland, who were said to originate off the coast to found the first magical settlement, Limerick. He had improved in leaps and bounds on the violin, and had managed to play in front of his mother, who had also deemed his Latin 'up to par.' With his parents in a good mood, Edmund was excited for the following day, when his parents would have dinner at the Greengrass Manor.

Edmund and Daphne had exchanged many letters on the subject and had decided that their parents' friendship was not only convenient for them as children, but for their parents on a professional level. A friendship between Michael Greengrass and Ned Fawley would help the Greengrass business interests abroad, while Ned gained a powerful commercial ally, as well as influence with Gregor Greengrass, who led the conservative faction of the Wizengamot.

The two friends had also decided that this dinner was one that their parents needed to have without their interference. As such Edmund had stayed at home while Daphne and Astoria went and visited their paternal grandparents in Surrey, where their Uncle Gregor and his wife would be over for dinner. Daphne would hopefully be able to let it slip that the Fawleys were at the Greengrass Estate, allowing her uncle to draw his own conclusions.

The dinner had apparently gone well, as Ned and Elodie Fawley had returned in a good mood, and more than a little bit tipsy. Edmund smiled to himself as his parents bade him a good night as he was reading in the library. A foundation with the Greengrass family was beneficial to his future plans. Sullivan would take over the family after his grandfather and father, so Edmund had to craft good relations from behind the scenes. He knew that it would be much easier to do that now, then when Sullivan was in charge. Other alliances, he could scout out when he visited the Pucey farmstead in Wales in a few days.

Edmund fingered the letter with the floo address on it. The Puceys were pureblood, but they were not as beholden to the old ways, which was fine. Not many, even in Slytherin, were these days. Adrian had been a gift of fate, however, readily taking Edmund in as a first-year while he already had many friends in his own year. Adrian had taken a chance on him and for that, he would always be grateful.

Edmund had fallen asleep in front of the hearth of the library that night, blanket on top of him and book nestled in his lap, and as such, he was up before either of his parents or his grandfather. It was a Saturday, and he knew his father would not go into work until the afternoon to be briefed by his Ambassadors. Quickly he got up and headed to the kitchen to get Worrow to prepare him something to eat. The morning issue of the Daily Prophet was already on the table. As the house elf prepared him a plate of eggs and toast, he took a look at the newspaper, to see an image of Ron Weasley on the front page. Apparently, the family had won the Daily Prophet drawing and spent it on a trip to Egypt. All things considered, Edmund had to admit it was money well spent, but hoped that Ronald's parents had also bought him a new wand to replace the disaster of a wand he used last year.

As Worrow set a plate with fried eggs and toast in front of him, he shifted the paper slightly in order to look at other news, which was rather dull. The Minister was doing an inspection of Azkaban today with Amelia Bones, the Chudley Cannons had lost another game, and the American MACUSA and French Ministry had condemned the Russian Committee on Magic for violations of the ICW Charter.

"Anything new, today?" his father asked from behind, having just walked into the kitchen.

Edmund slid the paper across the table to where he knew his father would sit down. "It looks like Ketanov and Delacour are going at it again in Geneva."

Edmund watched his father glance at the story for a second. "Ketanov and Delacour... big names in Russian and French politics. Efim Ketanov is young, only graduated from Koldovstoretz a few years ago and has managed to garner the attention of the Russian Committee... no easy task."

"Isn't he muggle-born though, father?" Edmund asked.

"Aye, that he is," Ned Fawley began digging into his own breakfast which Worrow had placed on the table. "Which is why it is so surprising, although remember that he is wizard-raised. The wizarding family which took him in adopted him from an orphanage when it became apparent he was displaying cases of accidental magic."

"Is that common in Russia?"

"I don't believe so," his father shook his head. "Most likely the couple was unable to conceive..."

The two sat in silence for a few moments, Edmund lost in thought as his father read the paper before Ned Fawley finally decided to break the silence as he finished a cup of coffee. "Today is the day you visit Adrian Pucey correct?"

"Yes sir, for the weekend."

"And who else will be there?"

"Well, you have met Blaise, Adrian, and Harlan… I really only think the other one is Theo Nott."

"You are aware of the reputation of that family?" Ned Fawley asked, clearly displeased.

"I will be safe, father," Edmund assured him.

"When are you scheduled to arrive there?" Ned Fawley changed the subject.

"In two hours father, half past ten."

"Very well. Make sure to bid your mother goodbye before you leave."

"I will."

Sure enough, he made sure to find his mother before he left, and at twenty past ten, he threw the Floo powder into the fireplace in the Hall before yelling "Pucey Farmstead!"

Adrian was waiting for him as he was deposited into the Hall of Pucey Farmstead.

"Welcome, mate," he clapped Edmund on the back. "Theo and Blaise are already here, just waiting on Harlan. Go ahead and join them."

Edmund followed Adrian's gesture to the door behind him. The Pucey residence appeared to be made entirely of wood, with forest green carpet lining the floor. A window looking out showed that they were quite close to a tree line

The next room was filled with plush leather couches, which already had Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott talking animatedly.

"Lord Fawley," Blaise mock bowed as he entered the room to Theo's snigger.

"Enough of that," Edmund mock scolded as he sat down next to his year-mate before examining the room further. "Pucey's family has good taste."

"His parents aren't here," Theo commented idly, nursing a butterbeer. "Which means we have free run of the place."

"Within reason," Adrian answered, walking in with Harlan Mathews in tow. "But for now, let's hit the pitch!"

The Pucey's Quidditch pitch was a large clearing a ways away from the farmstead. The hoops were shorter than regulation, but they did the job. "We aren't supposed to fly too high above the trees," Adrian had told Edmund privately as they mounted the Cleansweeps in the broom shed.

They played for several hours a two on two game while the odd one out officiated. Theo and Blaise were not bad at all, but Adrian, as the only chaser had an advantage in being familiar with the position and with the environment, able to tell which way the winds blew around the clearing. Blaise and Theo were both often keepers, leaving the roughhousing to the three who were on the Quidditch team. One point while Edmund was out of play, Adrian had lost control of the quaffle and the midair wrestling between him and Harlan allowed Blaise, ever the Slytherin, to creep up and grab the quaffle from the both of them and chuck it past a very surprised Theo on the opposite hoops.

It was not until the sun had escaped past the trees that they headed back into the House. Adrian's family had no House Elves, but his parents had left a table of food under a stasis charm, which the friends helped themselves to before going to the basement. Unlike most traditional wizarding houses, the Pucey house had a finished basement which had couches circling the walls.

"Look what I managed to snag," Adrian pulled out from behind him a rather large bottle of Ogden's finest, Firewhiskey.

"How did you grab that?" Harlan asked incredulously over Theo's jubilant smile.

"The last dinner party my parent's hosted," Adrian explained, pulling the cork from the bottle. "Jorgen Birch, the broadcaster, got a bit too drunk. I found this bottle in the closet, where he obviously hid it hoping to get his hands on it later."

"That man is an idiot," Blaise laughed.

"Not to mention an awful broadcaster," Edmund supplied, hiding his anxiety. His parents had always forbidden him from drinking underage, but he had always been curious about it. He knew that the older years got their hands on it from Hogsmeade, finding brokers who were willing to sell underage, but even last year the prefects had ensured that no alcohol reached the second years.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Theo had procured a set of shot glasses which Adrian proceeded to fill. "Bottoms up, boys!" he called, raising the glass before pouring the contents down his throat. Edmund and the others soon followed suit.

It was awful. The burning taste like friendfyre chasing him down a narrow hallway was relentless, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to spit the disgusting drink out like an embarrassment. As it was, he couldn't help the grimace that crossed his face as the last of the shot finally left his throat, even if the aftertaste still lingered.

"How do grownups like that?" he asked the group, who all but Theo was making a similar face.

"You keep drinking it and eventually get used to it," Theo supplied, chuckling slightly. "But by the looks of it, you'll need more than a few to get acquainted."

Challenged, Edmund knew he couldn't back down. "Give me another," he said tersely, holding his glass out, to which Adrian graciously poured another. Downing it without hesitation, he set the glass down on the floor and looked at a very surprised Theo challengingly. "Better keep up, Nott," he smirked slightly as the other boys laughed around them.

Despite the challenge, the boys tried not to go overboard, but after awhile Edmund could understand why adults continued to drink alcohol despite the taste. Harlan appeared to be somewhat calm, serene even, but both Adrian and Theo were rocking back and forth and seeing double. Blaise continued to giggle uncontrollably after several attempts to walk in a straight line.

"Soooooo, Adrian," Theo ground out. "Will Slytherin win the Cup this year or will you give it to Katie Bellllll as a present?"

"Shut it," Adrian's face got even redder then it had been before. "At least I'm not hung up over Selina Rowle."

"I am NOT," Theo exclaimed, oblivious to the unintentional pun that set the other four boys laughing uproariously on the floor.

"We know," Blaise guffawed.

The scion of the Nott family remained confused, and just scowled. "Whatever. I have a crush, at least mine is in Slytherin. Adrian likes a Gryffindor," he said, emphasizing the name of the House of lions in disgust.

"Harlan likes Marietta Edgecombe and she is a Ravenclaw," Adrian pointed out to the Slytherin beater's protests.

"Yes, you do, Mathews, don't deny it," Theo dismissed Harlan's blustering. "And at least she isn't in Gryffindor. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are fine, but Gryffindor is our direct antithesis."

"Whatever," Adrian muttered before grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I've seen Blaise with his eye on a certain Padma Patil while in the Hogwarts' Great Hall."

"That's almost as bad as Gryffindor!" Edmund exclaimed. "Maybe you like Parvati and are just into her carbon copy because she isn't a lion?"

"Padma is NOT anything like Parvati," Blaise stated, looking none too pleased to have been dragged into the conversation.

"Even if that were true its acceptable," Theo nodded sagely.

"And what about Edmund?" Harlan turned to him. "You planning on asking Daphne to Hogsmeade this year? Or are you hoping Gemma becomes available?"

"Gemma Fawley is always available for our little Slytherin Prince," Blaise sniggered. "It makes Daphne quite jealous, actually."

"Ah so she actually likes you," Theo snorted. "You're ahead of both Pucey and Mathews in that regard."

"As if Selina actually would like you," Harlan shot back.

Blaise took a moment to lean towards Edmund while the three older boys ribbed each other good naturedly, still feeling the effects of Ogden's finest. "A bit of warning, but studying with Padma... you hear things… Michael Corner is looking to ask her to the first Hogsmeade weekend," he whispered. "He is going to ask early so that he beats you to the punch."

"Is everyone assuming I like her?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Blaise answered simply. "It's pretty obvious, but at the same time, she won't wait for you right now."

Edmund nodded quietly, muttering a 'thanks' to Blaise as they turned back to their Housemates conversation, his mind abuzz with conflicting emotions about the next year. Meredith had gotten her first boyfriend midway through the third year. Sullivan had waited until the summer between the third and fourth year before he started seeing someone. Surely, he wasn't expected to go into the year with an aim to snag his best friend… that would be unbecoming.

* * *

The next day, Edmund woke up first as usual, but with a massive headache that made him wish for a quick and painless end.

Wiggling out of the sleeping bag, he slowly got up from the floor, half afraid any fast movement would cause his head to explode. Walking into the kitchen, he helped himself to a glass of water, which helped lessen the cotton-like feeling he was currently experiencing.

Four glasses of water later, Adrian entered the kitchen, the scrunched-up look on his face all the evidence Edmund needed to know that the older boy felt the same way as he was feeling.

"Mum and dad have hangover potions," he grunted, pouring himself a glass of water. "But if we take them, they'll know."

"It's not worth it," Edmund replied. "I'm feeling better already."

"Want food?" Adrian asked between greedy sis of water.

"I have to floo later on," Edmund shook his head. "If I puke all over immediately upon my arrival my mother will be incredibly cross."

So, Edmund suffered through with no food and only water. Still feeling off when the others had gotten up, he thanked Adrian and bid the guys goodbye, promising to find them on the train, September 1st.

Edmund would have liked nothing more than to go straight to his bed as he trudged across the grass to Promenade, but unfortunately, that was not to be. Waiting for him in the Central Atrium, blocking the stairs up to his room, stood an ashen-faced Madam Elodie Fawley. "Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban!" she stormed. "One of the most dangerous criminals has escaped and you decline to send us a note or leave us with any way of contacting you?"

Edmund winced at the shrill pierce that cut through his hangover. "Sorry, mum," he mumbled.

Luckily for him, his mother's worry seemed to supersede all other emotions for the moment, and his headache was not noticed. "You won't be leaving the property without supervision," she scolded him. You belong to an important family and I will not put you in a position to run into… that man!"

Honestly too tired to even care about the loss of his summer social calendar, Edmund eventually freed himself from his mother and made his way up to his bedroom. He really needed the sleep. Plopping onto his emerald green sheets, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

He ended up sleeping through the afternoon and was woken by Worrow who told him that dinner would be served in half an hour. Feeling infinitely better then he was this morning, he dashed into the shower before quickly drying off and donning plain red robes. His brother, mother, father, and grandfather were all seated by the time he arrived, even though checking his watch told him that he was still a few minutes early. Both Ned and Simon Fawley appeared to be lost in their own thoughts, and Madam Fawley was fussing over Sullivan, who had just returned home from the Diggory's house.

The family ate dinner in relative silence, that is until the subject of Sirius Black was brought up again. "I will not have you boys going to Diagon Alley with that madman on the loose," Madam Fawley stated while cutting a piece of meat. "It is simply too risky to have someone of our stature present such an easy target for Black."

"What about our books?"

"What about our allowance?"

Edmund and Sullivan said simultaneously, to the great bemusement of their father and grandfather. Deciding to answer Sullivan first, Madam Fawley set aside her utensils and looked up for the first time during dinner. "Your father will ensure that the amount of gold you want to be withdrawn for spending money is withdrawn."

"As for your books and supplies," she continued, turning to Edmund. "The two of you will tell me your classes and what you need, and I will ensure that I pick them up myself."

"I need to refill my potion's stock," Sullivan answered. "And I need the sixth year Divination and Arithmancy books, along with a new Care of Magical Creatures book. Apparently, Kettleburn is going with a different book this year."

Madam Fawley nodded curtly. "And you, Edmund?"

Edmund looked up, surprised, having become distracted. "Oh, well, I need new books for all the core classes, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, History of Magic, Astronomy, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"What book do you need for Defense?" Ned Fawley interrupted. "We may have something in the Library that can be spared."

"Defense Against the Darkness: Creatures of the British Isles and Northern Europe," Edmund answered. Defense books, unlike books for other subjects, did not frequently change. Defense was a very theoretical concept which was derived from the skills learned in other classes. As a result, it was essentially a practical application class of the subjects already learned.

"That's an excellent choice," Simon Fawley nodded approvingly. "Seems like this year's Professor will do a good job."

"We do have that book in the library," Ned agreed thoughtfully. "So you can cross that off the list, Elodie."

Madam Fawley nodded absently. "And what about your electives, dear? Now that I think about it, I don't believe you had the opportunity to tell us which ones you had selected."

"Oh," Edmund looked up. "I'll be needing, _Ancient Runes, Grade 1, A Look at Ancient Egypt_ for Ancient Runes, The _Monster Book_ for Care of Magical Creatures, and _In Ancient Times_ for Ancient Studies."

The entire room went silent, and Edmund immediately cursed his distracted self for not noticing sooner that he had neglected to break it to his family gently.

"Ancient Studies?" his mother said tersely. "That is not offered for third year students I do not believe."

"Professor Snape allowed it," he answered the unasked question. "He said my marks were good enough that I could do so."

"You are aware how this looks if one of the Wizengamot's staunchest opponents of that course has her son enrolled in it?" Ned Fawley asked, his voice raised.

"It isn't even that," his mum said. "What would possess you to take such a class? It promotes prejudiced and archaic ideas that are holding the country back."

"It studies ancient magics as well as history not covered by Professor Binns," Edmund defended.

"Magic which should be illegal," was Madam Fawley's retort.

"But it isn't illegal, and I want to take it. Didn't you all tell me that I should always aim to open my mind?"

"Enough!" Ned Fawley brought his hand down on the table. "Both of you, to your rooms. Now."

Silently, Edmund and Sullivan left the table and went up the staircase of the central atrium. "You've really done it, haven't you?" Sullivan muttered. "Mad you are."

"I'm taking the course," Edmund maintained.

A few hours later, Edmund was laying in bed silently reading _The Frenchman of Flanders_ , another Horatio Manfred novel when there was a knock on the door. Bidding the visitor entry, he looked up to see his Grandfather enter the room and close the door behind him.

"I can't say I'm happy with your choice of electives," he smiled softy. "But your gusto and resolve are to be admired."

"Thank you, grandfather," Edmund answered dutifully.

"You do realize you have placed your mother in an incredibly difficult position?"

"It was not my intention, sir."

"You belong to the richest family in Britain, lad. Your great-grandfather was Minister for Magic, your father is the Deputy to the Chief Diplomat for the Ministry, and your mother sits on the Wizengamot. You will always be in the spotlight, and your actions do affect others."

"I understand, grandfather."

Simon Fawley gave his grandson a strained smile. "Very well. Your mother can obviously not pick up your book so as a result we will be sending an intermediary to get both yours and Sullivan's school supplies. I'd give your mum some space for a bit though, aye?"

"Yes, sir, thank you," Edmund said once again, the distance between himself and his family feeling larger and larger.

"Goodnight, lad."

"Goodnight, grandfather."

* * *

"I don't know what to do about him sometimes, Amelia."

Ned Fawley was having tea with his good friend, Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in her office at the Ministry. The two tried to get together each Friday after work to catch up on each other's lives, the demands of their jobs keeping them away from other regular social functions. It had been four weeks since Edmund had announced he was taking Ancient Studies and since then, apart from visiting the Akwasis, he remained in his room and rarely talked to his mother. Unfortunately, he had also become so good at occlumency that he was impossible to read.

"I'm sure it is just a phase, Ned," Amelia said, sitting back in her chair. "All our children will go through it."

"I've had two children older than Edmund, Amelia," he sighed. "Merry was not like this, Sullivan wasn't either. Edmund is just… difficult. He has his opinions and they don't change. What's worse is he actually brings up intelligent points, making it clear that he has put a lot of careful thought into all this."

"Did he not just come back from Africa?"

"Yes," Ned sighed. "He visited a friend in Ghana. Son of a Tribal Chief who wields quite a bit of power."

"And he enjoyed it?" Amelia pressed.

"Oh, most definitely," Ned chuckled humorlessly. "He can get on great by himself abroad. My concern is how he is at home, and the views he is beginning to develop."

Amelia was about to reply when a paper memo flew onto her desk. Opening it, the blood rushed from her face.

"Leon," she barked, calling in her secretary who looked like he had been about to head home for the night. "Get the Minister. Tell him it's about Potter, then get me Hazel and Burberry."

"I'm sorry, Ned," she sighed. "We have a case of underage magic."

Suddenly, Ned connected the dots. "You think Black is going to try and take out young Mister Potter?" he asked his friend.

"You know I shouldn't be-"

"Oh, good grief, Amelia," Ned interrupted his friend. "I'm not a fool and I have clearance!"

The severe-looking woman pursed her lips but eventually gave in. "Yes, that is our working theory. And that same Mr. Potter just ran away from home after a case of accidental magic resulting in him blowing up his Aunt like a balloon."

Just then, the doors opened, and two men walked in. "Hazel," Bones said. "We need obliviators at No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Burberry, go with them, take another man with you. We need to locate Harry Potter."

"This is a fiasco," she sighed when the two left the room.

"Amelia!" Ned cringed slightly as he recognized the voice of his boss, the boss, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic. The portly man had his lime-green bowler in his hands. "Is something wrong? You asked for me? Did something happen to Harry?"

"He ran away from home, Minister," Amelia said. "Mr. Potter, in a case of accidental magic this evening, inflated his aunt, a muggle who has no knowledge of magic or our world."

"Oh? And that's it?" Fudge asked excitedly. Apparently, the Minister was also aware of the DMLE working theory on Black and Potter.

"No, sir," Amelia continued. "Potter has run away."

Whatever happy thoughts Cornelius Fudge had been thinking vanished instantly.

"Minister," Ned stood up. Ever the politician, this was his chance to earn some goodwill with Fudge.

"Oh, Fawley, I didn't see you here," Fudge turned around in surprise, Amelia Bones rolling her eyes behind him.

"If I may, Minister," Ned began, his brain working in overtime. "But Mr. Potter is a thirteen-year-old boy, on the run. He will go to the most familiar place he can think of."

"The Leaky Cauldron," Amelia Bones breathed out.

"What?" Fudge turned between the two Ministry officials, his confusion apparent.

"Mr. Potter has been raised in the Muggle World, Minister," Ned explained. The most familiar place for him would be the very entrance to our world, the Leaky Cauldron. He has money, he has a key for his Gringotts vault I assume. It would be logical that tonight, Mr. Potter will make his way to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh perfect," Fudge clapped his hands in delight. "Brilliant, Fawley, brilliant. We can get a few Aurors stationed there to collect him and then bring him back to his relatives."

"Perhaps instead of… apprehending Mr. Potter, Minister, we take a route that is more politically advantageous to you," Ned began carefully. He didn't have the Slytherin cunning, but he would do his best to play Fudge. "If you were to be there, and to make sure he was alright, I think that would go a long way in making a positive connection with the boy."

Slowly but surely, the cogs in the Minister's head began to creak, and Ned could see the lines being drawn in Fudge's brain. "A splendid idea, Ned," the man beamed. "I shall head there now."

"Care for some company, sir?" Ned asked. "Mr. Potter will be tired tonight and I would be glad to house him for the duration of the summer holidays should he accept my invitation. His friends, the Weasleys are in Egypt currently and leaving Mr. Potter along for a few weeks seems ill-advised given the present circumstances."

"Rather generous of you, Ned, come on then let us be on the way."

Several hours later, Ned stood in the back of the private room the Minister had asked for in the Leaky Cauldron and had watched the Minister's interaction with Harry Potter. It was his first in-person glance at the boy himself. He was scrawny and underfed, and a bit on the small side. It was hard to believe that this was the Star Gryffindor Seeker that his son felt a need to beat down in order to win a match.

"Where will I stay, sir?"

Ned returned his focus to the conversation that was wrapping up. Fudge made eye contact with him.

"Well, Harry, you are of course able to stay here at the Leaky Cauldron, but I believe Master Fawley will be expressing an invitation."

Ned cleared his throat and stepped forward. The boy, Harry, who had not known someone else was in the room, quickly turned around surprised. "Harry Potter," he said loudly, extending his hand. He found it doubtful that the boy would be familiar with pureblood etiquette. "My name is Ned Fawley, I believe my son, Edmund, is in your year at Hogwarts."

After a second, the boy took his hand. Ned was pleasantly surprised to learn that the savior of the Wizarding World had a strong grip, despite his scrawny appearance. "Mr. Potter," he continued. "I realize you have no reason to trust me except for my word and that of the Minister's, but I would like to invite you to stay at my family home for the remainder of the summer. I think you will be more comfortable there then renting a room here for an extended period of time."

The boy's eyes flicked over to the Minister's quickly, who nodded encouragingly.

"Alright," Harry Potter said. "Thank you, sir."

A few minutes later, they were on the Knight Bus racing towards the nearest village. When he found out that Potter had taken the bus to the Leaky Cauldron, he figured it would be better than trying to apparate or floo with all the boy's baggage, not to mention his owl.

He paid the driver extra to take the bus down the country road that would deposit them near the river Finn. It was only a five-minute walk after that. Ned pretended to pay no heed to Harry, but he noticed when the Estate came into view, Harry's awestruck gape. As they entered into the Hall, Ned flung his cloak to the side, where he knew Worrow would catch it.

"Some tea, Worrow, for our guest Mr. Potter, in the West Parlor, please. Also, please inform the, my father and wife, that we have a guest, and lastly, please prepare a room for him near Edmund's.

Finally, turning back to Harry Potter, Ned gestured to the door leading into the Atrium. "Welcome, Mr. Potter, to Promenade-on-Finn."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Next chapter will be the start of Third Year, as well as some details about Edmund's trip to Ghana, and Harry's presence at his house. I want to address this now, I left details out this chapter and switched to Ned's POV because while I like to keep things chronological, too much was happening to allow that to take shape in any effective way. Please read and review!_


	19. Chapter 19

**A TALE OF RIVALS**

 **By Elk99**

 **Chapter 19**

 **A/N:** Once again, all of this belongs to JK Rowling.

* * *

Edmund laid his head on the window as the train pulled out of Platform 9 ¾, doing his best to tune out Tracy and Daphne and Helen who were all gushing about Bulgaria's new Seeker and likely favorite to take to the World Cup, Viktor Krum. Edmund had actually seen Krum up close and knew that the Bulgarian brute was not as attractive as publicists made him out to be. A good Quidditch player? Sure. But he was no Prince Charming.

The rest of his summer had gone by under the storm cloud of his family's disapproval in his decision to take Ancient Studies. He had left for Africa alone, with his Grandfather taking him to the Ministry to get his International Portkey. He had then met Benjamin and Sakiko who were waiting for him with John Akwasi. Benjamin's comment a year earlier about the differences between Ministries was apparent as he beheld a large cavern covered in paintings and relics that reminded Edmund of a Military Compound. Where the British Ministry displayed grandeur, this one showcased strength and the power of the individual.

The three friends had explored the lands protected by Benjamin's tribe, as well as meeting his family. One day, Mr. Akwasi and a few tribesmen took the three kids on a safari where they saw some of the largest assortment of magical creatures, enough that would make Hagrid at Hogwarts green with envy.

Much to his father's displeasure, Edmund and his mother were still not on good terms when he arrived back from Ghana a week later, and tensions around the House were at an all-time high, until one Saturday morning when Edmund woke up to find that Harry Potter would be staying with them for the remainder of the Summer.

All in all, Potter's stay had not been that bad. They boys were cordial with each other and were able to fly around the Estate. Edmund could tell the Boy-Who-Lived was not used to such grandeur that was on display as it was at Promenade-on-Finn, a matter he privately thought to be a disgrace. Madam Fawley had been the perfect hostess and ensured that his supplies were picked up from Diagon Alley, and Ned Fawley took the time to explain to both his sons the dangers of Sirius Black.

The news had apparently hit Potter with a good deal of difficulty, and he pushed himself to the limits with his Nimbus, flying at incredible speeds that Edmund believed was partially anger induced.

In defense of the famous Gryffindor, the news about Black was shocking. While everyone who was raised in the Wizarding World knew of what Black had done to Peter Pettigrew, Edmund had no idea that he was the one who had actually betrayed Lily and James Potter, leading the Dark Lord to Godric's Hollow. He hoped that the knowledge, combined with speculation that the mass murderer might be after him, that Potter did not make any foolish decisions such as trying to take out Black on his own. It would be something only a Gryffindor would be capable of doing.

Suddenly, Edmund realized the train had begun to slow down, and he wasn't the only one to notice. "Why have we slowed down?" Tracy asked.

"No way by Merlin's arse are we there yet," Blaise glanced out the window.

"Something is wrong," Edmund muttered, standing up.

He was cut off as the train jerked to a complete halt, throwing him against Daphne and Tracy.

"Look at the window," Helen gasped as she pointed to the glass pane which was now completely frosted over.

"This is like," Daphne's thoughts remained unfinished as the door opened, and a tall hooded wraith stepped into the compartment.

* * *

"Bloody mental!" Blaise fumed inside the carriage taking them from Hogsmeade Station to the Castle. "Stopping the Hogwarts's Express? Why couldn't they just search the ruddy train when we got to Hogsmeade?"

Edmund shrugged noncommittally, not feeling talkative. He and Blaise were sitting with Brock Kelsey and Ramsay Shacklebolt in the carriage, having separated from the girls in the onslaught of people hurriedly getting off the train. The Shacklebolts were an old family, one of the Sacred 28. The Kelseys were a much more interesting matter. Brock's grandfather was muggleborn, but well off, the son of A Master at a Cambridge College. Mr. Kelsey positioned himself to marry a pureblood woman, and his son did the same, making Brock essentially a first-generation Pureblood. Brock's father worked with Ned Fawley, Edmund knew, but as both boys were sixth years, and Ravenclaws, there was little conversation between the two duos.

"Did you hear Potter fainted," Malfoy could be heard talking loudly to Pansy and Millicent as Edmund and Blaise stepped out of the carriage. With a nod to the older Ravenclaws, Edmund and Blaise stepped out and into the Great Hall, where Madam Pomfrey was passing out chocolate. "Dementors at a school…" the Matron was muttering angrily.

The Welcome Feast was relatively unsurprising. This year's batch of First Years was slightly larger then the past years had been. Slytherin received fourteen new first-years into its ranks, most of them, Edmund noted, were Half-Bloods. _A result of post-war baby boom perhaps._

Professor Dumbledore introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor as Remus Lupin. A man in shabby attire, yet still managed to appear dignified. Edmund clapped politely along with his classmates. What was very surprising was the Headmaster's announcement that Professor Kettleburn had retired and was being replaced with the new, Professor Hagrid. "Had to be the reason we have this monstrosity of a book" Malfoy snarled in disdain.

The news that Dementors would be guarding the school was inconvenient, but not surprising considering the circumstances.

As Edmund followed Blaise and the others to the Dungeons before their new Housemates arrived, he realized how exhausted he was. He could feel the pull of his four-poster bed even before he entered the Common Room, and with a tired wave to his friends, went down the Hall to his dormitory before collapsing in bed.

That night his dream took him back to Africa, to the fields he had roamed with Benjamin and Sakiko. He remembered when he and Sakiko were at the Ministry before his portkey. The hug that lasted a bit longer then it should have. _"You will write to me, though, won't you?"_ she had asked him. _"Of course,"_ he had responded.

The following morning, he woke up as usual, well before everyone else, showered and made his way into the Common Room. He set out writing letters to his parents, his sister, Martin, Benjamin, and Sakiko. Not much had happened yet in the school year, but he didn't have any homework, and getting his correspondence out of the way early would ensure he did not forget in the first place. Hopefully, Ptolemy could forgive him for the load.

As it turned out, getting his letters all written had been an excellent choice. Edmund knew that with three extra classes, his schedule would be much harder, but the monstrosity he had received from Professor Snape at breakfast, which his Head of House called 'A Timetable' had essentially blocked out all of Edmund's time. On the very first day, not only did Edmund have four classes, but one of them, Herbology, would be a double.

"Why is Charms at two different times?" Tracy complained. "I'll never remember that."

"It gets worse next year," Henry Keating, who had been passing by said after a quick glance from behind Edmund. "You'll then have to remember the different times for your _electives_."

Of his year, Daphne and Tracy were the only other Slytherins taking three electives, Daphne's being Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy while Tracy took Muggle Studies in lieu of care of Magical Creatures.

"We have Arithmancy first thing," Daphne told Tracy. "What about you, Edmund?"

"Ancient Studies," he grinned. "I don't suppose anyone knows where the Old Tower is?"

"Ask Gemma," Blaise said before biting into a croissant, oblivious to Daphne's glare.

Looking over, Edmund saw that Gemma was sitting with a few of her friends near the Head of the Slytherin Table, near the High Table. Sighing, he got up and walked over. "Gemma?" he asked a bit nervously at the pretty Seventh Year prefect.

"My, my, Edmund Fawley," she said lazily turning in her seat. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to go to the Old Tower."

"I'm heading that way anyway," Gemma turned around again. "I'll walk you there myself. Meet in a few by the doors."

"She said she'd walk me there," Edmund told his friends as he returned to his spot at the table, grabbing his bag and stuffing an apple into it. "I'll catch you all at History of Magic."

"That girl is trouble," Daphne snarled to a consoling Tracy as they watched Gemma and Edmund walk out of the Hall. "Come on, we need to get to Arithmancy."

* * *

"Why have I never been to this tower before?" Edmund asked Gemma as they walked briskly down the East Wing, a rarely used part of the Castle, where most of the Professor's quarters were scattered throughout.

"The Old Tower was used back in the days the school was founded," Gemma answered. "With the population decline and rise of other schools, people got used to only using the west wing. Professor Shafiq… bless his heart, is the fourth consecutive Shafiq to teach Ancient Studies. His father and grandfather and great-grandfather all taught the course from the Old Tower, and he won't change that."

"A Traditionalist then," Edmund stated.

"Are you surprised?" Gemma retorted. "Surely you would know that?"

"Just making conversation," he defended himself. "What business do you have up here, anyway?"

"I'm meeting a boy," she said simply.

* * *

"Welcome, class. To the most noble study of the Ancient Times."

Professor Shafiq was a small man, wrapped in a heavy green cloak. With a greying goatee and dark skinned, Edmund had seen him sit at the High Table during mealtimes, but always on the very end, and would leave as soon as he finished his meal. The class itself was on top of the Old Tower and had few people in it. It was a fifth-year class ordinarily, which was why he had needed permission from Professor Snape to take it. Apart from him, there were only six others in the class, and they were introduced as Trey Dunbar from Gryffindor, Diana Mack from Hufflepuff, Harrison Adkins and Kate Whitehall from Ravenclaw, and Philip Rosier and Marcus Bletchley from Slytherin.

When it came time for Edmund to introduce himself, Professor Shafiq stepped in. "And what a privilege we have, joining us the great-grandson of Hector Fawley. Quite the surprise to see you in my class, Master Fawley, quite surprising indeed. But welcome nonetheless."

Turning back to the rest of the group, which was arranged in a semicircle facing the Professor, he continued the lecture. "Why study the Ancient World? It's magic? It's culture? Is it interest that drives us? Is it the pursuit of knowledge? Is it passion? What is it that brings you here? Let us start with you, Master Dunbar."

"Interest, sir," the nervous Gryffindor said.

"Miss Mack?"

"Understanding, sir."

"An excellent answer… Master Adkins?"

"Knowledge, sir."

"Miss Whitehall?"

"Curiosity, sir."

"Master Rosier?"

"Heritage, sir."

"The never-ending answer of one from the Sacred 28 I see…. Master Bletchley?"

"Passion, sir."

"Yes, the traditions of the Ancients are still practiced in some circles today. But what about you, Master Fawley? What is it that brings you here, two years younger then whence this class is normally offered?"

Edmund had a lot of time to think about his answer. "Power, sir."

"Take thirty points for Slytherin, Master Fawley," the old Professor smiled, "For an answer I haven't heard in a while."

Turning to the rest of the class, the old Professor continued. "All of these are worthy reasons to pursue this study, but Master Fawley's answer is something I would like to touch on further."

"Ulick Gamp," he began. "First Minister for Magic. Took office in 1707 after the Statutes of Secrecy mandated by the International Confederation of Wizards called for a higher organized structure for British Governance. At the time, the Wizengamot was in existence, consisting of the Welsh, English and Scottish Wizard Councils which had unified several years before. Who am I forgetting, Miss Mack?"

"Ireland, sir?" the Hufflepuff asked.

"Yes, Ireland," the Professor nodded. "The Chief of the Irish Council at the time, Coyle Fiddler refused to even meet with Ulick Gamp. Eventually the ICW had to step in and force Chief Fiddler to cede authority to the British Ministry, under the condition that the Irish Council maintain some autonomy which they do so hold to this day."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Master Dunbar?"

The older Gryffindor shifted uncomfortably. "Why would the Ministry allow the Irish to keep any semblance of control? Surely they might of Wizarding Britain is even stronger together?"

Edmund chuckled at the question, catching the older Professor's eye in doing so.

"Master Fawley means no offense, for it is indeed a good question. And the answer is twofold," Professor Shafiq explained. "First of all, it was not feasible for Gamp or his chief strategist, Hephaestus Gore, who would later become Minister himself, to attempt to take over Ireland. The Ministry was just establishing itself and a costly conflict in Ireland was exactly what the ICW was attempting to avoid. Now, what makes Ireland so tough? The Irish Druids at the time were masters at using the natural magic of the Island to their advantage."

The old Professor paused for a moment to drink some water from the glass that sat at the podium. The entire class was listening closely.

"Secondly," he continued. "Devolved associations were not uncommon throughout Europe. The German Confederation of Magic would not unite for a century or so, and the French had many devolved magical assemblies outside of their Magical Capitol, which at the time, was at Rouen. And after all, this, as the years went by, the Irish Council allowed more and more of their power to be given to the Ministry. While today they still train their own Aurors, they exist primarily as keepers of the Irish culture."

The class continued in that vein until the time was up and Professor Shafiq assigned them a one-foot essay on pre-Roman Britain, covered in Chapter 1 of their text. Edmund walked out with Philip Rosier and Marcus Bletchley, before parting ways with the boys back in the main wing of the Castle, the fifth-years heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts while he headed to join his classmates in History of Magic.

In the afternoon, Edmund, Daphne, and Helen had Care of Magical Creatures, joined by their fellow Slytherins, Malfoy, Bulstrode, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle. Edmund noticed it was probably one of the biggest electives. All the Gryffindors were there, as well as all the Hufflepuffs. Only five Ravenclaws took the class, but with eight Slytherins, it was by far the largest class.

All in all, Hagrid was not a bad teacher. Edmund was fascinated by the Hippogriff and had to hand it to Potter for his handling of riding Buckbeak. Malfoy's 'stunt' at the end, was ridiculous and completely uncalled for.

"What an idiot," Edmund muttered angrily to Daphne and Helen as they walked back up towards the Castle, the lumbering form of their Professor still in view as he carried Draco Malfoy to the Hospital Wing. "That was a really cool class and Draco had to go and ruin it per usual."

"He'll probably talk to his dad about it too," Helen muttered. "My dad works at the Ministry. Lucius Malfoy still holds a good amount of sway there, and he has friends all over."

"We need to cauterize this, now.." Edmund muttered.

"What do you have in mind?" Daphne asked him.

"Obviously the first rule of the blame game is to get your story out before the other person does," Edmund mused. "It works as a way to discredit the complainant… Helen, who would one file a complaint at the Ministry with when it came to the abuse or provocation of a magical creature?"

The Slytherin girl looked deep in thought for a moment, twisting a strand of her mouse-brown hair for a moment before brightening considerably. "Amos Diggory. He is the Deputy of the Department responsible for the regulation and care of all creatures. Basically, the one who releases the list of endangered or banned, et cetera."

"Lovely," Edmund grinned. Abruptly, he turned around to watch the rest of the class climbing the hill behind him. Eventually, everyone else had passed them except the Gryffindor boys.

"What are we doing," Daphne hissed at him, as the group got closer.

"Just a good turn for the day," Edmund responded airily. "Potter," he called out to the group, ignoring the distrustful look on Weasley and Finnegan's faces and slightly amused by the look of apprehension on the muggleborn Thomas's.

"Fawley," Harry Potter greeted him carefully.

"Malfoy is an idiot," he said without pretense, knowing that the best way to get through to a Gryffindor was bluntness.

"Nothing new to me," the boy-who-lived chuckled.

"Unfortunately, he is a Slytherin for a reason, and he isn't unintelligent. This is terrible news for Hagrid and that Hippogriff unless something gets done about it."

"What do you mean, Fawley?" Weasley broke in angrily. "Is that a threat?"

Edmund rolled his eyes. Ron Weasley was an overdramatic and oversensitive boy who was constantly overcompensating for his family's lack of wealth. "Relax, Weasley. I'm on your side for once. Malfoy will tell his father and Lucius Malfoy will move heaven and earth to ensure Professor Hagrid is sacked and that Hippogriff… executed. I want to stop that from happening."

"Keep talking," Potter said.

"You need to write a letter to Amos Diggory at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Edmund began. "File a complaint with him immediately. Tell him that Draco Malfoy provoked a Hippogriff after explicit instruction on how to safely approach the creature. Explain to Mr. Diggory that you want the Department to punish Draco for endangering not only his life but the lives of our class by willfully provoking a wild Hippogriff. Do that. Do that immediately, and when the Malfoys bring their case to the Ministry, that complaint will be on file, and Mr. Diggory can work to defend Buckbeak and Hagrid, at the very least allow for an unbiased inquiry."

"He's right, Harry," Neville cut in. "I'll write to my grandmother as well."

"Why can't you do this yourself if you care that much, Fawley?" Seamus asked him, with narrowed eyes.

"You don't have to live with Draco, Finnegan. I don't need him finding out that I undermined his efforts," Edmund retorted. "Now if that's all, I need to be getting to Herbology."

As he, Daphne, and Helen walked away towards the Greenhouses, Edmund missed the knowing look the two girls shared with each other.

"Such good relations with Gryffindors," Helen teased.

"Hardly," Edmund snorted. "They are brash and impulsive, which is how I know they will take my advice."

"Why do you care so much about Hagrid?" Daphne asked.

"It's not about Hagrid," he shrugged. "It's about refusing to grant Draco a pedestal of any kind to set himself on."

"Is he that much of a threat, anymore?" Daphne asked.

"Always," he responded before entering the Greenhouse.

* * *

The only other new class Edmund had was Ancient Runes, on the first Monday second week of term, also a fascinating subject. Professor Babbling did not allow them to sit next to members of their own house, so he found himself seated next to Sally-Anne Perks, a black-haired Gryffindor girl who looked as if she could sit anywhere but next to him. _Typical Gryffindor prejudice._

Daphne ended up sitting next to Hermione Granger, while Tracy sat with Terry Boot. Pansy Parkinson was the only other Slytherin in the class, and sat next to Kevin Entwhistle, a half-blood Hufflepuff who Edmund rather felt sorry for. He liked Pansy alright, but her dramatics could be a bit much.

Professor Babbling was a small portly witch with fly away hair reminding him of Professor Sprout as if she had never seen the outdoors. She wasted no time with introductions or attendance, telling the class instead that their presence would be expected, as without it they would not succeed in her class. By the end of the period, Edmund felt mentally exhausted.

The start of Third Year also meant that they would be attending a mandatory study period each week in the Library Annex, which for the Third Years, was on a Monday, and was where the Ancient Runes Third Year Class was heading. Edmund found it surprisingly helpful, having a set and established time to study and do work for all of his classes, and he managed to get almost all of his work done in that period.

One of his new favorite Professors had to be the new Professor Lupin, who had the students working on Boggarts and the _Riddikkulus_ charm right off the back. Edmund had managed to turn his mummified likeness into a swarm of confetti before anyone put together his fear of being buried alive.

Marcus Flint wasted no time in holding tryouts for the team, although it was mostly a formality. The entire team from last season was back. Flint and Higgs were seventh-years, while Warrington and Bletchley and Warrington were Sixth Years. The left only Adrian and Harlan in Fourth Year, with Edmund in Third. After an hour of tryouts, it became clear the lineup wouldn't change, and Flint set them up on an intense training schedule. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, the team met on the pitch at 6:15 in the morning, while Tuesdays and Thursdays they met for an hour and a half before dinner. It was grueling, but with Flint in his last year a long with his nemesis, Gryffindor Captain Oliver Wood, he was determined to win the Cup once again.

Between practice everyday and his schoolwork, Edmund had barely any time to think about a social life, until Professor Dumbledore announced the first Hogsmeade Weekend would be on Halloween, in two weeks away. Suddenly, all the thoughts regarding girls and Hogsmeade Visits from the summer came haunting back. Girls seemed to grow more intimidating and also expectant. Edmund remembered Blaise's warning from back in the summer about Michael Corner. He was not the biggest fan of the Ravenclaw before he heard that, and that revelation certainly did not help.

It wasn't that he didn't want to ask Daphne, it was much more that he was confused about his own feelings. Such was it that he began to avoid her, Tracy and Helen in the Common Room, and spending more time with Gemma, or the Fourth-Year boys, all who had their own girl troubles.

His avoidance of the girls did not go unnoticed, as Tracy held him back one day in Runes. "You can stop avoiding us now," the short brunette snarled at him. "Michael Corner asked Daphne to Hogsmeade and she said yes, so you're off the hook."

The feeling of relief Edmund had expected at not having to make a decision never came, and instead was filled with regret. Nonetheless, he was an accomplished occlumens and he returned to hanging out with his friend group. Daphne didn't say anything to him, and they maintained a cordial relationship, but Edmund knew that his typically reserved friend had grown even more within herself, and Tracy still gave him the occasional glare.

Blaise ended up making plans with Padma Pail for the Hogsmeade Weekend, and Harlan and Theo had asked Marietta Edgecombe and Selina Rowle respectively. Adrian had asked a Slytherin fifth-year, not beign able to ask Katie whom he hardly knew outside of Quidditch. His cop out made Edmund feel a bit better. Neither Tracy nor Helen were going with anyone to Hogsmeade, but the former had made it abundantly clear that he was not welcome on this trip.

"Just ask someone," Gemma told him lazily as they practiced Dueling in the Society of Seaxneat's Chamber. "Girls like to be asked even if they say no."

"I don't have many friends outside of Slytherin," Edmund admitted, dodging from the Incarcerous Curse sent at him before firing back with a stinging hex.

"You have classes with other girls, don't you?" Gemma said sharply. "You're a third year. It doesn't really matter who you go with, just that you have the ability to bring someone. Otherwise Malfoy will beat you at the social game."

Malfoy had indeed secured a date to Hogsmeade. Pansy Parkinson had fallen for his sympathy tricks after he had been attacked by Buckbeak the Hippogriff. Malfoy was desperate to climb the social ladder, and after his parents' complaints about Buckbeak had failed to gain any traction in the Ministry due to Potter's letter to Amos Diggory, the blonde ponce had taken it upon himself to parade with Pansy like a peacock.

And so it was the Wednesday before the Hogsmeade weekend that Edmund found himself internally panicking as he sat next to Sally-Anne Perks in Ancient Runes. As they set to work, he steeled himself. They had conversed before, but it was purely work-related.

"So, Perks," he began as he transcribed one of the runic arrays Professor Babbling had created. "Hogsmeade weekend is coming up."

"Trying to work here, Fawley," the Gryffindor muttered annoyed.

"Yeah as if you need that much concentration, Perks," he muttered back. "I know you already know this stuff, I'm not blind."

Over the past weeks, it became clear to Edmund that Sally-Anne Perks had already read far ahead in their Runes Textbook, and knew most of the material they were going over at present. The girl who normally stayed to herself in Transfiguration really knew her stuff in Runes and engaged Professor Babbling as much as he, Granger, and Terry did.

"Okay," she responded wearily. "What about it?"

"I wondered if you would grant me the honor of your company?" he said, reflexively catching the book she had accidentally knocked off the desk in surprise.

"Careful, Ms. Perks," Professor Babbling cautioned her from across the room.

"Sorry, Professor," Sally-Anne muttered, her face red as she turned to Edmund.

"What are you on about, Fawley?"

"Was I not clear, Sally Anne?" Edmund asked. "I asked if you'd go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"But why?" She sputtered. "You're a Slytherin!"

"I'm also someone who wants to take you to Hogsmeade because I think you're pretty," he retorted evenly. "And maybe you'd take the opportunity to know me beyond being a Slytherin."

"Fine," she whispered. "I'll go with you."

"Brilliant," he smiled. "I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall at 9:30?"

"Yes," the girl said. Now blushing profusely.

"I'll be looking forward to it, Sally Anne," Edmund smiled softly as he continued to transcribe the ruins until Professor Babbling dismissed them for the day.

* * *

"So I heard you asked someone to Hogsmeade," Gemma said softly as the two of them dueled in their room in the dungeons.

"I did," he responded. "Sally Anne Perks."

"A good family that," Gemma said knowingly as she deflected another stinging hex.

"Pureblood," Edmund agreed. "And I find her attractive."

"More attractive than me?" Gemma mocked, successfully using Edmund's flustered face to hit him with a leg-locking jinx.

"Never," he said, recovering quickly, countering the jinx and rolling to the side before the next hex could hit him. "But if you aren't going with me, appearances need to be maintained."

"An excellent answer, young Fawley," Gemma teased, granting him a small reprieve from her hexes.

* * *

"Edmund Fawley?!" Lavender Brown asked her dorm-mate in the Third-Year girls dorm in Gryffindor Tower. "The Slytherin?"

"He asked me in Runes," Sally Anne responded lightly running a hand through her hair. "He was… charming... about it too."

"He is kind of cute," Parvati Patil gushed.

"And an amazing Quidditch player," Sophie Roper continued.

"Harry has talked to him on occasion, says he's always been civil to him," Hermione Granger said in a rare show of participation in their gossip. "And he and Neville are apparently good friends."

"What?" Lavender exclaimed. "How have we not heard this before?"

"You're so lucky to have a date, Sally Anne," Parvati moaned. "And Edmund Fawley certainly isn't a bad catch."

* * *

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were sitting in front of the Gryffindor fireplace Wednesday evening, with Hermione filling the boys in on how Edmund Fawley apparently asked Sally Anne Perks to Hogsmeade in Ancient Runes.

"I still don't trust him," Ron muttered. "He's sneaky and he targeted Harry last year in Quidditch."

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione sighed. "It's a game, and he was on the other team. He also clued us in on how to stop Malfoy from sacking Hagrid and getting rid of Buckbeak."

"You heard him," Ron countered. "He did it for himself. Why are you siding with him?"

As his friends began to bicker as was the custom for them this year, Harry thought back to earlier in the day right after breakfast when Fawley had approached him in the hall.

' _Potter," Edmund called out, holding up a small envelope. "I have this for you."_

 _Dear, Mr. Potter-_

 _You will be pleased to know that I contacted your relatives after your stay with our family over the summer holidays. It seems that in your haste to depart, you had forgotten to have them sign this form granting you permission to go to Hogsmeade with the rest of your peers. After a quick conversation, your uncle was agreeable to signing this even with you already back at school. Said form is enclosed. Please accept my sincere apologies for my delay in having this sent to Hogwarts, as I have undertaken a project at work which fills my time to a frustrating degree._

 _Cordially yours,_

 _Ned Fawley_

 _Deputy to the Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation_

Edmund Fawley might be in Slytherin, Harry thought to himself as he headed up to his bed, leaving an arguing Ron and Hermione behind, but he couldn't be all bad.

* * *

 **A?N:** Next chapter will cover the Hogsmeade visit and the events of Halloween night, also will go into more coverage with Daphne. Thank you all so much for your patience and for all the reviews I have received privately as well as on the board. I appreciate your feedback.


	20. Chapter 20

**A TALE OF RIVALS**

 **By Elk99**

 **Chapter 20**

* * *

October 31st arrived in no time, and Edmund and Blaise headed up to breakfast with Daphne, Tracy, and Helen. Daphne and Edmund were back to their usual level of friendship and as a result, Edmund was also back in Tracy's good graces. It had taken a few days, but Daphne apparently accepting the news of him asking Sally Anne had a similar effect on her.

The girls were talking about the latest TeenWitch, Edmund's cue to keep his head down and keep eating until Blaise elbowed him and whispered in his ear. "Perks just walked in and she's looking this way."

Helen and Tracy giggled as Edmund choked on his food in his haste to look up. Sally Anne smiled softly before turning back to a giggling group of girls at the Gryffindor table. "Smooth, Fawley," Blaise chuckled.

"You surprised me that's all," Edmund defended.

After breakfast, Edmund made his way down to the dungeons to change out of his school robes. He shed his Hogwarts's uniform for a grey collared shirt and black sweater, finally donning a light silver traveling cloak adorned with the Fawley Crest on the right side. Blaise was dressed similarly in a green sweater and black cloak.

"Pulling out all the stops today, huh," Blaise commented teasingly.

"Just dressing as is expected of someone in my station," Edmund said haughtily, plastering a superior look on his face as he fastened the serpent-buckle of his cloak.

"Oh, sod off, Malfoy," Blaise laughed at his imitation.

The two walked out of the Common Room together, the first and second years looking wistfully at the stream of upper years leaving the grounds.

"Where are you meeting Padma?" Edmund asked.

"The library of all places," Blaise rolled his eyes. "She needs to return some books."

Edmund laughed alongside his friend. He was grateful for Blaise's company. Adrian, Theo, and Harlan were great, but Blaise was in his year, and as the two of them had started to notice girls, he was grateful to have someone else to talk to.

"Well, mate, best of luck," Blaise slapped his back as they entered the Entrance Hall. "Don't make a fool of yourself and don't be nervous."

Edmund scoffed. "Nervous? Hardly. I was born for this."

With that he strode to the center and turned around with a swish of his cloak just as Sally-Anne came into view, coming down the stairs with a group of Gryffindor girls, giggling once they saw him. Edmund was impressed. Perk's hair was down around her shoulders, out of the usual ponytail she wore it in. Her clothing choices were much more in the modern style, but still befitting a pureblood girl, with a black traveling cloak she left unbuckled, giving a clear view of the red sweater she wore over a white blouse and a black skirt over red stockings.

"Ms. Perks," he said with an elaborate bow as her group reached him, placing his lips lightly to her knuckles in the very ancient customs, partly because he enjoyed it, and partly because the overplay would put them both at ease.

"Fawley," she greeted him, blushing madly as the three girls behind her looked on, hoping to catch every bit of the exchange.

"I insist that you call me, Edmund, Sally Anne," he said, forcing the confidence that came with years of training helped by his impressive grasp on occlumency. "For the duration of the day, at the very least."

Her blush deepened. "Alright, Edmund, but you must call me by my first name as well."

"I already have been haven't I," he grinned. It wasn't a question. "Come on let's head out. We could take a carriage, but I prefer the walk.

Sally Anne bid goodbye to her friends while Edmund snuck a look at Blaise, who was watching bemusedly from the stairs, and gave him a small wink. _That is how it's done_.

The two walked down the lane towards the gate where Professor McGonagall and Filch were checking permission slips. The stern Transfiguration Professor was reluctantly accepting a permission slip from a very smug-looking Harry Potter, who upon seeing Edmund, flashed him a grateful smile before following his friends Granger and Weasley into the Village.

"What was that about?" Sally Anne asked curiously as their permission slips were taken and were ushered towards Hogsmeade.

"Potter? Oh, he stayed with us for part of the summer and my father ensured he got his permission slip signed when he realized he forgot it," Edmund said nonchalantly. "Just doing his part for the Savior of our world, I guess."

"You and Harry are friends?" his companion gasped, shocked.

"No," Edmund chuckled with a shake of his head. "Familiar acquaintances would probably be a better term."

Hogsmeade Village truly was wonderful. Edmund and Sally stopped in Honeydukes and bought a rather large collection of sugar quills and liquorish wands before touring the rest of the village. Zonko's Joke shop was packed with students and all sorts of joke objects. Fred and George Weasley, the Gryffindor beaters were in a heated discussion with an older man who must have been Mister Zonko himself. Edmund himself bought a large supply of dung bombs and stink pellets before exiting the shop.

"How are you going to get all that past Filch?" Sally Anne asked curiously. "Isn't there some sort of limit?"

"Knowing the right people is always helpful, Sally Anne," Edmund smiled knowingly as he led her to the Post Office. "Quite a simple solution but Filch has no way of controlling the mail we receive. Luckily, Sullivan told me that the postman here in Hogsmeade will get you anything you want by owl the next day, for a price."

Sally Anne watched incredulously as after a few minutes of haggling, he handed over his things to the postman who put them in the back and told him he'd receive his package the next day at the dinner Owl Delivery.

"How much of a prankster are you?" She asked him curiously as they left the Post Office.

"I like to stir people up," he shrugged. "But come on, where to next?"

"A couple Gryffindors are meeting at the Three Broomsticks," she said hesitantly. "I know you're in Slytherin, but I've been having fun and-"

"Of course, I will walk into a Lion Den with you," Edmund interrupted, his occlumency schooling his face into a mask of cheer that hid the inane fear that had crept into his body at being outnumbered by his house rivals.

"Really?" she asked.

"Of course," he said dismissively before being struck by a mischievous grin. "How about we give Brown and Patil something to talk about though?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Take my hand."

Sally Anne blushed profusely as Edmund led them by the hand passed dozens of Hogwarts students towards the Three Broomsticks. "This is insane," she whispered to him. "People will talk!"

"I am a Fawley. Didn't you know if you showed up with me people would talk anyway?"

They finally reached the Three Broomsticks where they entered the crowded pub. Instantly Edmund had noticed a pack of lions sitting in one of the large booths. He led his date to the bar where he ordered two Butterbeers and hung their cloaks up at the coatrack before heading over to the table.

The majority of the Third Year Gryffindors were there. Edmund was formally introduced to Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Sophie Roper, and Dean Thomas. Seamus Finnegan and Neville were also there, but he had met them before.

"Hey guys," Sally Anne said to the Gryffindors. "This is Edmund, you know him from class."

"What have you guys done this morning?" Parvati asked as she scooted over in the booth for Sally Anne while Neville moved over to accommodate Edmund.

Sally Anne began retelling of their day while Edmund surveyed the other occupants of the table. Sophie Roper and Seamus Finnegan were looking at him cautiously. Dean Thomas was listening intently to the Gryffindor girls, and Neville appeared more confident than ever. Neville had really improved since he had received a new wand. Last year he had started casting better and better and that seemed to have done wonders for his confidence this year. He was quickly turning into something of a prodigy in Herbology. Parvati and Lavender, on the other hand, were notorious for neglecting their studies, although the two couldn't seem to stop swooning over their Divination Professor. Edmund found their insistence that she predicted the death of Harry Potter a bit over the top.

The remainder of lunch was quite enjoyable for Edmund after getting rid of the original wariness that came from sitting with a bunch of Gryffindors. They talked about everything from the latest Chudley Cannons defeat to Flitwick's homework assignments. In the end, the group decided that they would head back up the Castle. Edmund held back his date and whispered to her, "Let's hang back a bit."

They walked together slowly up the large hill that led back up to the castle. "I heard you mention that you have difficulty with Charms," he began slowly, carefully wording everything.

"Definitely," Sally Anne laughed, wrapping her cloak around her. "I don't know what it is but it's so difficult. Sometimes Hermione Granger will give me a few pointers, but I still can't seem to grasp it."

"You know," Edmund began, "I am quite good at Charms… a month or two ahead of the class actually. I'd be happy to help you out."

"Would you really?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course," he replied evenly. "Let's start out with the Library on Tuesday. We can go over the basics again and then we can see where you are on the current material."

"Thank you so much," she wrapped him in a hug. "My parents have been so upset with me because of Charms, but it's the only class I have trouble with."

"It is of no problem, Sally Anne," Edmund smiled softly. The two walked back up the rest of the way to the Castle in companionable silence. Finally, they reached the warmth of the Entrance Hall.

"Thank you, Edmund," Sally Anne said shyly.

"The pleasure was mine, Sally Anne," Edmund said smoothly, bowing while brushing his lips against her knuckles like he had been taught to greet a pureblood lady. "I will see you on Tuesday evening in the Library."

With that, he watched her head up the stairs to catch up with her friends before turning towards the dungeons to head back to his Common Room.

As he entered the Common Room, he saw Daphne sitting in tears being comforted by Tracy, Helen, and a second year, Lane McRory. Tracy met his eye and whispered "Corner. Date went bad."

Instantly Edmund saw red, which he quickly schooled into a mask of calmness. "Leave us." It wasn't a request. Edmund had developed a great deal of authority among the First through Fourth years and with everyone else still at Hogsmeade, the room cleared up instantly, leaving him alone with Daphne.

"Tell me what happened," he said much more softly now.

"It's nothing Edmund please-"

"Daphne if you don't tell me right now, I will go and place him in St. Mungo's," he interrupted. He had no time nor tolerance for the excuses from his best friend.

"It was, it was fine at first," she began. "But then he made a comment and tried to touch me and when I pushed him away, he said all sorts of horrible things!"

Edmund was ready then and there to take care of Corner, but he knew Daphne needed him more at the time. "Look, Daphne," he began, treading carefully. "Corner is an idiot and you did the right thing to refuse him. You know how dangerous it is to give in to our temptations, and even more so to give in to the temptations of others."

"I thought he liked me for who I was," she sniffed, burying her head into his chest.

"And more fool be him who makes such an error as to not," Edmund responded quietly, rubbing her shoulder.

The two sat in silence for a good while, Edmund making sure that Daphne was alright before standing up, and quietly gesturing to Tracy who had quietly came back into the room. "Take her to her room and give her a calming draught," he ordered. "Her mother always packs a bottle for emergencies in her trunk."

After he had seen Tracy lead Daphne down the corridor to the dormitory, Edmund turned to surveil the common room, now filled with some of the students coming back from Hogsmeade. He could tell that the younger years had informed some of the older years. Many of them didn't care, after all, they had more important matters to deal with, but Edmund made note of those whose faces betrayed their anger. "Crabbe, Goyle, Pucey, Mathews, Zabini, and Nott," he called out. "You are with me."

* * *

Later that evening, the Ravenclaws were heading down from their Tower to join the rest of the Houses for the much-awaited Halloween Feast. Michael Corner was talking with Anthony Goldstein and Oliver Rivers about a letter Anthony's older brother in Russia had sent when the entire corridor was engulfed in a thick black mist making it impossible to see. Prefect Emma Musson quickly restored order by clearing the corridor of the strange mist. Anthony Goldstein and Oliver Rivers assumed their friend had run to the front of the gaggle and decided to look for him at dinner.

* * *

Michael Corner had grown tired early on of struggling against what must have been the magical ropes that bound his hands and feet. Someone had put a silencing charm on him as well as some sort of blindfold, but he could still feel himself being jostled around rather roughly up the stairs. He could also feel his shoulder smash against the stone flooring of wherever his captors had decided to drop him. It was much to his outrage when the blindfold was lifted, and noise rushed back to his ears that he saw himself surrounded by seven figures in oversized grey hooded cloaks. 'What is the meaning of this?" he sputtered out, failing to hide his fearful apprehension. "My prefects will notice my absence and inform Professor Dumbledore!"

"He's awfully smart," one of the hooded figures said, their voice masked into a distorted snarl. "Shame he isn't smart all the time."

"Agreed," another one, to the left of the center, spoke up. "Such a waste of talent cannot be tolerated."

"Michael Corner," the hooded figure in the center spoke, his voice also distorted, yet strangely melodic. "You have brought upon yourself the wrath of the Knights of Badb. Do you understand what it is that you have done?"

"I don't know what you are talking about!" he shouted, quite scared now. "Listen closely if I am not at the Halloween Feast Professor Flitwick will notice and inform Professor Dumbledore!"

He was met with laughter. "You will be in attendance at tonight's feast, Corner."

The leader gestured to the most leftward figure, who approached the Ravenclaw, taking a vial out of his cloak.

"You will drink from this vial, the voice of the leader could be heard, out of sight as the figure holding the potion blocked his forward view. "As punishment for your transgressions and behavior towards Daphne Iliana Greengrass. If you cannot do this, your destiny will be subject to the judgment of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, who without doubt, would not take kindly to hearing her story."

Corner gulped as he took the vial proffered to him as his bindings fell away.

"The feast starts in twenty minutes. Wait here for ten or we will make a repeat of this visit. If you do not drink, we will know."

With that, the same black mist that had manifested in the corridor appeared again before clearing, Michael's captors gone with it. Terrified, he wasted little time uncorking the vial and taking the potion in one swig. Expulsion would be worse than whatever this did.

* * *

Edmund, Blaise, Theo, Vincent, Gregory, Harlan, and Adrian were sitting together in the middle of the Slytherin table waiting for the feast to begin. There was roughly five minutes before Professor Dumbledore would start the festivities. The ancient Headmaster appeared to be in deep conversation with Professor McGonagall.

"Do you think he will show up," Blaise asked Edmund, who merely shrugged, he himself nervous as to what would come of the remainder of the evening.

"Relax," Theo snickered. "Everything went off perfectly. We pushed him where it hurts. He is a Ravenclaw. Being expelled would be as bad as death."

Privately, Edmund agreed with Theo, but took less pleasure in the action itself. The potion he had Gregory give to Corner had been a personal creation of his from Herbology Camp summers ago. Undetectable as it was an experimental brew, it would ensure that any traces of the toxin could not be traced back to them by Madam Pomfrey.

Soon enough Michael Corner walked into the Great Hall, unnoticed by most of the school who was enamored with the feast, but intently watched by a few heads at the Slytherin table. The Ravenclaw sat quietly with his friends, his lateness unnoticed in the crowdy din of his peers, and a slight notice me not charm that would hopefully wear off as soon as the potion he had been given took effect.

A few minutes after the start of the feast, a shriek drew the attention of the entire Hall to the Ravenclaw Table, where Michael Corner was furiously itching himself in every place imaginable. Madam Pomfrey had swept down from the Head Table almost instantly to whisk him off to the Hospital Wing, but by then, the entirety of Hogwarts had witnessed his humiliation, if the welts on his face were anything to go by, Michael Corner was in for a painful evening in the Hospital Wing.

"Smashing success," Theo whispered to the group, a manic glint in his eyes. Edmund, saying nothing, privately agreed. For the time they had to put their plan into action, it was surprisingly smooth.

At the end of his second year, Edmund, Adrian, and Harlan had come together to initiate a pact of friendship. The Knights of Badb had been born, in honor of The Morrigan, a Goddess of Celtic Mythology Edmund had studied years ago, prior to his time at Hogwarts. Daphne had helped him with the pact before eventually joining it herself. Blaise and Tracy had also joined, and Adrian and Harlan had dragged Theo into the fold, although Edmund was not sure about him, nor with Gregory or Vincent. The three had all taken magical vows of secrecy, so he was not terribly worried, but he had instructed Adrian to keep a careful eye on them.

Edmund had an impressive amount of natural makeshift potions he had created at the Maylock preserve still stored in his trunk, including a few vials of Peruvian dust he nicked from Madam Maylock's stores that when combined with ice salamander essence and dittany created a large but silent and harmless reaction in the powder that created the distraction. Adrian and Harlan had helped caste silencing and notice-me-not charms that allowed Vincent and Gregory to grab the Ravenclaw to the empty classroom Edmund and Blaise had found. All in all, Edmund was incredibly pleased.

Looking over, he was pleased to see Daphne smiling behind her hands as the gossip started spreading amongst the student body. He had not forgiven the Ravenclaw boy, but the significant upturn in Daphne's mood was enough for Edmund to let it rest for the remainder of the week.

Later that evening as the Slytherins were heading to the Dungeons, Daphne pulled him aside away from the students filing towards the Common Room. "You had something to do with that, didn't you?" she asked, with a slight small on her face.

"The Knights look after our own, Daphne," Edmund responded seriously. "Ever present."

"You've always been so serious," Daphne muttered in his ear as she enveloped him in a hug. "You have my thanks. All of you."

Edmund did not get another chance to respond, because as they were about to join their classmates in the Common Room, Professor Snape swept down, stopping short as he saw them, and panting hard.

"Ms. Greengrass, Mr. Fawley," he began. "You will come with me immediately as we collect your Housemates from the Common Room. There has been an attack tonight."

* * *

The news that Sirius Black had broken into the Castle and attacked the Gryffindor House portrait had shocked everyone into a quiet frenzy. All over the Great Hall, where Professor Snape had led the Slytherins back to, Gryffindors were retelling how access to their Common Room had been blocked. Students were milling about but Edmund sought after only one head.

They made eye contact with each other at the same time. "Hey," Sally Anne came up to him, Edmund noting her pale face and trembling hands.

"Are you okay, Sally Anne?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Edmund, thank you," she nodded shakily. "It's simply startling."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay," Edmund reassured her, squeezing her hand briefly before Professor Dumbledore ordered them all to the sleeping bags that had been magically laid out for them in lieu of the familiar House tables. "Get some sleep and we can talk more tomorrow."

"That would be terrifying had that been our Common Room," Blaise muttered as Edmund rejoined him and the Slytherin third years, who had claimed a spot in the middle of the Slytherin rows of emerald green sleeping bags.

"I guess it's lucky Black didn't go to Slytherin like every other member of his family," Edmund responded wearily, squirming into his bag in as dignified a way as he could manage. "The dungeons would be an opportune place for him to hideout."

"Oi, Fawley, care not to ruin my sleep eh?" George Boore, a second-year retorted, a bluster Edmund recognized as masking fear. "None of us will be wanting to step foot down there now!"

"Shut it and get to bed, Boore!" snapped Jane Rosier, one of the Slytherin fifth year prefects. "Say what you will about Professor Dumbledore, but Sirius Black is no match for him."

"Yet somehow he managed to get into the Castle," Edmund could hear one of the fourth years say snidely in response. Imagining that the comments were doing nothing for George's state of worry, Edmund pulled a blanket closer and fell asleep among the starry ceiling.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the wait and that this chapter is shorter than most. Chapter 21 will be coming very soon. A few notes, however, Badb is a part of the Morrigan in Irish mythology. I think it is fair to assume that Edmund grew up hearing the folklore of the land he was born in. Once again, thank you all for your reviews. I read and appreciate all of them, whether its public or private.


	21. Chapter 21

**A TALE OF RIVALS**

 **By Elk99**

 **Chapter 21**

* * *

"Silence!" Albus Dumbledore roared from his perch in the Wizengamot Chambers. "The Chamber recognizes Madam Fawley!"

Elodie Fawley stood from her place towards the back wall of the circular chamber where the hereditary members of the Wizengamot sat. Her light brown hair was up in an elegant yet severe bun that could rival Professor McGonagall's at Hogwarts.

"Three months." She paused before continuing, seeing all the members of the Wizengamot with few exceptions staring at her with bated breaths. Elodie Fawley was a distinguished orator in the Wizengamot. Few women who sat for their husband's family were held in such high regard as she was.

"It has been a little more than three months since Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. It has been a little more than three months since one of the most dangerous men ever locked in our prison made history as its first escapee. And it has been a little more than three months since the Minister vowed that the Ministry would be doing all it could to bring him to justice and return safely to our shores. Last night, honorable wizards and witches of the Wizengamot, Sirius Black attempted entry into a common room at Hogwarts and was thwarted not by the Aurors, not by the Dementors, not by Hit Wizards, but by a portrait. He completely circumvented all defenses the Ministry had put in place. What. A. Catastrophe."

The last three words were aimed directly at Cornelius Fudge, who was now nervously wringing his hands. His Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge glowered up at her. Members such as Lucius Malfoy and Hiram Rowle looked on at her with thinly veiled disgust, but Elodie Fawley did not care about them. She had the full attention of the other members.

"In the last fiscal year, Minister Fudge presented us with a plan to cut expenses. Auror expenses were cut. Aid to other magical governments was cut. Funds for maintaining Azkaban were cut! We trusted our Minister over the pleas of Amelia Bones and Barty Crouch and Rufus Scrimgeour, who warned us that these cuts would limit their ability to function and hurt our already diminished credibility on the international stage. Sure enough, honorable members, our lack of an Auror budget has forced us to use Dementors at Hogwarts! Our allies have resisted pleas for cooperation in tracking down what is a 'British problem,' and all throughout, Cornelius Fudge sits in his office and says that everything is alright."

The members looked murderous and unsettled. Fudge looked worried, as did Malfoy and Rowle, interestingly enough. It was time for Elodie's final blow.

"And when Rufus Scrimgeour beseeched this body to approve more funds for the Aurors, backed in full by Madam Bones, the Chief Warlock, and the Majority of this body, _Minister_ _Fudge rejected it_!"

The entire chamber broke out into chatter. Fudge's face was deathly pale, and Dumbledore wore an amused expression.

"Last night was the final straw of my patience, of my family's patience," she cried out amidst the deliberations as Dumbledore called for order. "I demand the Minister change the current austerity policy, or Magical Britain will demand a leader who will change it themselves!"

* * *

"Oh, very nicely done, Elodie." Elodie Fawley looked up, eyes meeting her father-in-law. "What a stunning blow to the Fudge Ministry."

"Thank you, Simon," she said. "I was not aware you would be in London today or I would have asked you to lunch. Ned and I went to Merlin's Staff this afternoon."

"It is no matter. I had lunch with Otto today," he said with a chuckle. "I was scheduled to have a meeting with the Minister today regarding Irish Council matters, and it has now been canceled, no doubt because of the display we had today."

"Augusta told me that the Faction Leaders have called a meeting with Fudge. Rita Skeeter already dug her teeth into this, and no Malfoy money has been enough to detract her, apparently."

"That woman moves quickly, doesn't she? With that querulous quill of hers," Simon Fawley said. "Something to watch out for as my grandsons grow more prolific in the tabloids."

Madam Fawley looked at her father-in-law sharply. "My boys are in tabloids?"

"Once in a while I've received reports to that extent," Simon said vaguely. "Never sought out, mind you, but this magazine that they call _TeenWitch_ is very popular with today's youth."

"I don't know how to feel about this," Elodie said as she shook her head, disgruntled.

* * *

The Ministry of Magic had about thirty conference rooms, each named after a Minister for Magic, and said conference rooms were designed usually upon reflection of its namesake's personalities. The Fawley Conference Room, which Cornelius Fudge had just walked into, screamed of opulence. Two fountains took up opposite sides of the room with a marble setting, and a large portrait of Hector 'Flamboyant' Fawley adorned the center of a pale gold wall. A large table that could easily fit thirty people was positioned in the center of the room. Ministry officials typically used the room to impress dignitaries and ambassadors upon their initial arrival to Magical Britain, a first taste of the grandeur and power that the British Ministry exuded.

The irony of where this meeting was taking place was not lost on Cornelius Fudge. He had to clear his schedule for the remainder of the day to deal with the outrage Elodie Fawley had instigated in the Wizengamot Chambers. Not a minute had gone by after he had escaped to his office before he received a summons from the Faction heads of the Wizengamot requesting a leadership meeting, and yes, as a slight, they had scheduled said meeting in the Fawley Conference Room.

Three men were already spread out around the massive oak table when Fudge walked into the room. Lucius Malfoy gave him a curt nod when they all stood up to greet him as if to signal that everything would be alright. Strangely enough, Fudge's concern was shockingly unabated. Lucius always had managed to make him feel as if everything was okay before.

The next one was Roger Nibley, a younger man of medium build with a black goatee and long plaited hair that hosted elegant silver streaks. Nibley had made a name for himself by acquiring and starting various social establishments throughout Wizarding Britain, notably, Merlin's Staff in London and a bar in Godric's Hollow called Nibley's Red Lion. Unlike Lucius, Roger Nibley betrayed no emotion in acknowledging Fudge, black eyes boring into him; the usually cheerful and raucous entrepreneur's lack of an easy-going smile was enough to illustrate the gravity of the situation.

The third faction leader was one person whose feral gaze, eyeing him like a defenseless piece of meat, did not surprise the Minister. Eadwulf Gambol came from an old family of merchants who had been involved in politics since his great-great-grandmother had served as Minister for Magic. Considered the Father of the Wizengamot for his seniority in the Chamber, Gambol had been elected only a few years after he left Hogwarts, following his father's untimely death from Dragon Pox. The man had short and carefully groomed white hair with horned-rim glasses that emphasized his deep purple eyes, likely an effect of belladonna, which had been a popular eye supplement back in the day. Fudge had no doubt that it was he who had secured the meeting's location.

"Gentlemen," Fudge said as he took a seat at the table directly across from Gambol. "I thank you for organizing this much-needed meeting in a prompt fashion. There is a lot to do today in—"

"The most useful thing you could do right now is find us a replacement for your job." Gambol wasted no time in interrupting with any excuses that could come out of his mouth. "This Sirius Black affair has made you nothing but an embarrassment, Cornelius. I knew you weren't competent when I first got you elected over Crouch, but I had hoped you'd grow into it. Here we have your first real test, and you are failing miserably."

"Now see here," Fudge began.

"No, Cornelius, no excuses right now. Not today." Roger Nibley shook his head sadly. "The Dementor Patrols are killing business in Diagon Alley, Puddlemere, Hogsmeade. People aren't buying or spending. They are staying in their homes, and some have begun purchasing Ward Makers from Germany because the Ministry, which promised to protect them, and might I add, nationalized the Warding industry, has lost their confidence."

"Gentlemen." Lucius' silky voice resonated throughout the room. "Blaming the Minister at this juncture would be most imprudent. What is needed is a solution to the problem."

"I'm going to be frank," Nibley said, raising his hand as if to ward off protestations. "The here and now of this and that is not good for you, Fudge. Any support you may have had with my side evaporated with Elodie Fawley's speech today in session, and I can't be seen going against my own members."

"The same applies to me," Gambol agreed pensively. "The members of my faction, myself included, were very much influenced by Madam Fawley's rousing wake-up call, and you can't expect us to sit back and do nothing now."

"I would remind you, Eadwulf, that you could be credited singlehandedly with getting our dear Minister into office a few years ago," Lucius said airily, and for a brief second Fudge, who had been watching the exchange like a fish out of water, felt as if maybe he had a chance to salvage his situation.

"And since then he has done absolutely nothing substantial to appease any of us who helped elect him," the older leader retorted his sharp words like a needle to Fudge's balloon. "He has placed my people in Department Headships, yes, and their popularity is so much higher than his. It would be no problem to cut ties as we demand your resignation."

There was a great deal of truth to this statement, and all four men knew it. Amelia Bones, Diane Halfhead, and Ludo Bagman were all immensely popular figures with the Wizarding public. If Eadwulf Gambol managed to mobilize them, Fudge had no doubt who would win the publicity war.

"Look, Fudge, this is salvageable," Roger Nibley broke in, sharing a glance with Gambol and purposefully avoiding Malfoy's gaze. "With a few… changes... in policy… I think it would be possible to persuade our people that your tenure for the duration of your term is for the best."

"But only," Gambol continued, "if we give them the right incentives."

* * *

Dolores Umbridge was fuming. "Now Minister, this is highly irregular!"

"It's politics, Dolores!" Fudge snapped. "Merlin's Beard, woman, I've barely managed to keep my job after Gambol and Nibley schemed behind my back! The reality is that someone has to take the fall for this bad business, very bad business, and unless I want it to be me, I need to take the out that I have been given!"

"But loading the Departments, Minister," the toad-faced woman huffed.

"Just get Barty, Dolores," Fudge dismissed his undersecretary tiredly. Eadwulf Gambol and Roger Nibley scheming together, Lucius being none the wiser—it was indeed very bad business. Lucius had become an excellent advisor and an even better donor. Always a safety net, but lately he had been slipping up. It was lucky that the faction leaders could all agree that if would be prudent to keep him in his current position during this crisis, but he hated the changes he had to make. Even he could see that it was stacking the deck.

"Barty Crouch here to see you, Minister." His Junior Assistant Brian Rosier stuck his head through the door. "Shall I send him in?"

"Yes, yes please do," Fudge said, slipping a spot of brandy into his tea, knowing full well it wouldn't be enough.

Bartemius Crouch Sr. was not a nice-looking man; with his gaunt, sallow face and robes that were several sizes too large for him, the man had never recovered from his wife's death or his son's betrayal. It was bad business that ended his rising popularity in the Ministry and ensured Fudge the top spot after Millicent Bagnold retired. Crouch had not hidden his resentment for Fudge, but Fudge had kept him in the position out of respect for his predecessor.

Millicent Bagnold and Barty Crouch had become very good friends, and there was no doubt she favored him to succeed her, but scandal would prevent such from ever happening. It had broken the poor women, but she transferred her protégé to the Department of International Cooperation, a move many found to be too lenient considering only a ladder climber like Crouch would really consider it as such.

"You asked to see me, Minister?" Crouch said.

"Yes, Barty, please do sit down."

* * *

"Fudge sacked Crouch today," Ned stated bluntly as he cut the filet Worrow had prepared for supper into more manageable portions. He, Elodie, and his father were eating in the small dining room of Promenade-On-Finn. The Evening Prophet had managed to get the story of what happened in the Wizengamot session to print, describing in detail Elodie Fawley's speech eviscerating Cornelius Fudge.

"Oh." Elodie looked up. "Crouch was not a target nor the purpose of today's speech."

"You will probably hear tomorrow, but Nibley has come through it appears in a miraculous way," he continued slowly. "Fudge has named me Head of the Department."

"Has he really?" Simon asked.

"But oh, that's splendid!" Elodie answered simultaneously.

"There is a massive reshuffle that Nibley and Gambol apparently shoved down Fudge's throat," Ned continued. "Hugh Abbott, Gambol's deputy, was telling me that there aren't going to be any Fudge Loyalists heading the Departments effective tomorrow."

"Who is out?" Simon asked.

"Apart from Crouch, Madam Gladwell is out, so is Rowle, Selwyn, Dunbar, and McLaggen. All to be replaced with people who are supposedly in with either Nibley or Gambol. Fudge actually thinks I am on his side though, according to Hugh."

"What Cornelius Fudge thinks is always questionable at any given moment." His wife laughed. "I am very happy for you, dear. I must write to the boys after dinner to tell them the news before they find out from _The Daily Prophet_."

"Do you know who is in?" Simon pressed.

"I recommended Arnold Westenburg to Hugh, but I doubt he will get it. After all, it very much seems like Nibley and Gambol had their list set before meeting with Fudge."

"What a shame," Elodie said. "He would do wonders heading a Department."

"Alas Fudge probably wouldn't go for him anyway." Simon sighed. "Makes me wish for Madam Bagnold once more."

"I believe Nibley and Gambol do as well," Elodie muttered darkly.

* * *

 _THE DAILY PROPHET_

MINISTER ORGANIZES RESHUFFLE, POLICY CHANGES AFTER WIZENGAMOT UPROAR

By Orpheus Hadley

On Halloween, 12 years after he committed the very crime that put him in Azkaban Prison, Sirius Black infiltrated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, surpassing not only the ancient castle's unrivaled wards but the Dementor defenses put in place by the Ministry under Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge's orders. Minister Fudge and Auror Chief Rufus Scrimgeour announced the break-in alongside Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and Gideon Brocklehurst, Chief Governor of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, Monday morning. Minister Fudge had announced in late August that the Dementor Posting would prevent Black from accessing the School, which was later pointed out by Madam Elodie Fawley in the Wizengamot session later that day.

Madam Fawley, who represents the Fawley hereditary seat, is a popular member of the Wizengamot and has offered many skilled orations over debates such as the Muggle-born Access laws, as well as the repeal of the House Elf tax, in which she was instrumental. Respected by both sides of the Wizengamot, she has stayed away from leadership politics until the attack on Hogwarts School. Accusing the Minister of sitting idly by while also attacking what she called "austerity policies," Madam Fawley put the spotlight on the Fudge Ministry's complete and utter failure to do anything constructive to capture Sirius Black and place him back in Azkaban. A full transcript of Madam Fawley's speech may be found in the public record in the Ministry's Hall of Records.

At an unusually fast pace, Minister Fudge sacked various Department Heads, including Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Madam Violet Gladwell, Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. David Rowle was also dismissed from his position as Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Various other junior Heads and Chiefs were also dismissed.

The reshuffle came only hours before the Wizengamot was scheduled to hold a vote of no-confidence for the Minister, a rare vote. When it came down to a vote, only 12 out of the 85 members of the Wizengamot voted in no-confidence, signaling that the reshuffle had been appropriate. Subsequently, Minister Fudge introduced a measure in chamber to increase funding to both the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Faction Leaders Lucius Malfoy, Eadwulf Gambol, and Roger Nibley all made themselves unavailable for comment.

 _The Daily Prophet_ will continue to monitor the story on whether Minister Fudge and his new Department Heads can get a grip on the Magical World and return Sirius Black to the murderer's rightful place: Azkaban.


End file.
